


Married on the Morrow

by A_Little_Boosh_Maid



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Band Fic, Boys In Love, Dramedy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter References, M/M, Magic, Male Slash, Mild Kink, More Than One Kink, Not Sure if Mild or Not, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Comedy, Unofficial Sequel, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 97,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Boosh_Maid/pseuds/A_Little_Boosh_Maid
Summary: Vince puts in place a crazy scheme to raise the profile of The Mighty Boosh. The trouble is he didn't tell Howard about it first ... How will a post-chokes Howard deal with the surprising news that he's now in a romantic relationship with his fake boyfriend, Vince? And just how far is Vince willing to take this?





	1. Don't Freak Out

**Author's Note:**

> This story makes numerous references and allusions to events which occurred in my two series, Entering the First Days of Howince, and Zooniverse Nights, and can be read as a sequel to them as they all occur within the same universe (in fact it alludes to almost every story I've written). You don't need to have read them to follow this, but if you only read one, "Satsumas Are Not the Only Fruit" would probably be the most helpful.

"Howard!", Vince yelled as he ran up the stairs to the flat. He tried running up two at a time, and tripped over. High heeled ankle boots, no matter how shiny and elegant, aren't helpful for running up stairs.

"Howard, Howard!", Vince called. He banged into the balustrade and cursed fluently.

" _Howard_!", Vince panted as he reached the top of the landing. He had a stitch, and began to feel old and vain, even though he was only ... twenty-three, was it?

"Howard, don't freak out", Vince implored as he reached the living room. "Whatever you do, _don't_ freak out, Howard".

Howard looked up in surprise. He had closed the Nabootique half an hour ago, and was re-reading Chekhov's _Letters on the Short Story, the Drama, and Other Literary Topics_.

"Why would I freak out?", he wondered aloud.

****************************************

Howard had had plenty of reasons to freak out during his long friendship with Vince, so I don't know why he was looking surprised. And last year, things had got freakier on Howard's birthday (he was almost sure he was thirty-two: six months older than Vince).

At Howard's party, they had shared a kiss, and although the circumstances hadn't been ideal – Vince's life was in mortal danger, it had been witnessed by an angry shaman with a sword, and they fell off the roof – it had been Howard's first kiss, and quite magical, opening his bashful and melancholy heart to love Vince the way he had always wanted, but been too afraid to.

However, with Howard's usual dismal luck, instead of bringing them closer together, the kiss had driven a wedge between them. First Vince rejected him, then he rejected Vince, and their friendship reached a cold stalemate. For months Howard had been numb and heartbroken, and Vince almost seemed to hate him. Or worse than hate – despise Howard, as if he couldn't muster the energy for hatred.

Then something wonderful had happened which changed Howard's life forever. By chance, he had run into Montgomery Flange, the finest actor of his generation (goodness knows what generation, but he was very old). He had agreed to train Howard in the art of acting in his secret woodland dojo, as long as Howard agreed to skip about the bracken in his underwear and a pair of tights. Howard was an apt pupil, and had been talked into way dodgier situations in the past – he had a tendency to let any man in a position of authority over him do whatever they wanted, the gormless tit.

Montgomery had removed from Howard the dreaded "chokes" which had given him such terrible stage fright, and he had become a great actor. Unfortunately the process killed Montgomery, but after all he _was_ very old. Howard discovered that without the chokes, he no longer suffered from crippling panic attacks – the sort that made him run away whenever he got scared or freeze in terror, and give himself secret Chinese burns in small confined spaces. The anxiety was still there, but he was able to manage it better now.

With his new-found confidence, Howard had gone to Denmark to take up an acting role with an acclaimed film director. When he returned, he had hoped to be able to talk to Vince, only to find that Vince seemed more resentful of him than ever.

Vince's birthday had arrived, and Howard asked him out to dinner, with the idea that they could finally work things out. He could talk to Vince now, explain how he felt, and why he had behaved so stupidly in the past. But Vince said he was having a party at The Velvet Onion, with five thousand guests, a live performance by The Black Tubes, and so many flirtinis that he would be functionally dead by midnight. Howard took that as a no.

Christmas had come, but if Howard had learned anything from the works of George Michael it's that you don't discuss your relationship problems during the Yuletide season, or you'll just bring everyone down. New Year's Eve followed, and Howard was careful to stay away from Vince at midnight, in case he thought Howard was trying to score another kiss. It wasn't hard to avoid him – Vince was functionally dead by then.

Things had improved somewhat in the new year. As his new year's resolution, Howard had signed up for the Jazz at Dawn Seven Days a Week and No Slacking Off program at his Jazzercise studio in Camden; he'd also bought a bike, so he could cycle to the studio instead of going by Tube. He was now the fittest he had been in years, and the daily exercise was really helping with his moods.

The other improvement was that he and Vince finally seemed to be getting somewhere with their music career. The Mighty Boosh had semi-regular to regular gigs, and a small following of fans that might be described as "cult" or "underground" by the music press, once they found out Howard and Vince existed.

Vince was a solid musical collaborator, never missed a rehearsal, and would not give up until they got something right. Music had always been the best part of Vince and Howard's relationship – they might argue in rehearsals, they could even shout at one another, but it was never meant to hurt. They weren't attacking each other, just passionate about making the song sound as good as possible. Working as a team brought them closer together, and they made it a rule to end every rehearsal with a friendly hug to show there were no hard feelings.

Of course _now_ Howard couldn't tell Vince how he felt in case it ruined their career. It seemed unprofessional to put that in jeopardy, and if it all went horribly wrong, he might break up The Boosh so they'd be the unsuccessful version of Fleetwood Mac.

Howard tried to be happy with all the good things he had – friends, music, hugs, exercise, a day job, Jazz Club, arthouse cinema, stationery village, the occasional drive to Surrey. He told himself it was a rich, full life and that wanting love as well was unreasonable. He tried not to be unreasonable, but some days it was difficult. Nights were worse, although fortunately Vince often stayed late at The Velvet Onion or other clubs, and Howard got up early every morning for dawn Jazzercise, so there had been a minimum of uncomfortable moments sharing a bedroom with Vince.

Now it was four months since Howard had returned from Copenhagen, and in twelve weeks he would be turning thirty-three. Vince had just run up the stairs into the living room, telling him not to freak out, and given him the latest copy of _Cheekbone_ magazine, which the delivery ninja had silently handed to Vince in the street outside.

Howard wondered what this was all about.

*******************************************

Howard looked at the cover of _Cheekbone_ , which featured Vince wearing a peacock blue jumpsuit open to just above the pubic bone, apparently made from actual peacock feathers. Well, that was no surprise – Vince was always on the cover, and known as the cheekbones of _Cheekbone_.

He opened the magazine.

"Oh they did a feature on The Mighty Boosh; this is great", Howard said. "They've taken some incredible photos of our last show. And they've heaped praise on the costumes you made us – _The ever-talented frontman and designer Vince Noir has once again outdone himself with a staggering array of lustrous soft fabrics in exquisite shades of turquoise and emerald, and his famously striking appearance in over thirty costume changes showed to good effect against the spangled backdrop of his own design_ ".

He turned the page.

"They've even said some nice things about me", Howard noted. " _Mysterious maverick and multi-instrumentalist Howard Moon is known for having the sartorial style of a bohemian badger, yet even he seemed less of a cipher clad in Noir's stunning design_ s. Hear that? They said I had sartorial style".

Howard looked at Vince over the top of the magazine, and noticed Vince still seemed very uncomfortable, almost guilty.

"I don't know what you were worried about, Vince", Howard reassured him. "It's a good article. I mean they've concentrated on our costumes more than the music, but it's _Cheekbone_ – that's to be expected. If you thought I'd be upset over this, I'm not at all. It's excellent publicity, and thanks for using your connections to get us this kind of coverage".

"Keep reading", was all Vince said in reply.

Howard skimmed through the article until he got to the end, then stared in consternation. He couldn't believe what he was reading: it didn't make any sense. He read it aloud, hoping it would be more comprehensible that way.

" _Vince Noir, previously rather coy when the question has been broached in interviews, has confirmed what has long been an open secret in the music and fashion worlds, and exclusively revealed to this magazine that he and Howard Moon are not only musical partners, but have been in a romantic relationship for some time_ ".

Vince giggled nervously, and twisted a strand of his hair between his fingers.

"I don't understand, Vince", Howard said. "Why did you say that?".

"It was Lance!", burst out Vince. "It was that bloody Lance Dior! He and Harold Boom have announced that _they're_ in a romantic relationship, and I just couldn't stand them getting ahead of us _again_ ".

"Why would they do that? They only follow what we're doing", Howard said in puzzlement.

"They thought they _were_ following us", said Vince. "It's that whole thing where people think I'm your wife or girlfriend or boyfriend or something, and I suppose we have been hugging a lot lately. Maybe they spied on some rehearsals and saw that".

"But ... what on earth are we meant to be do now? We can't pretend to be in a romantic relationship – it's fraud, for a start".

"Oh I'd commit way worse crimes than fraud to get back at Lance", said Vince with the cold determination that Lance Dior inspired in him.

"And what's the point anyway? Lance and Harold have already got in first – we'd look as if we were following their lead like a pair of sad copycats if we do the same thing".

"Our relationship just has to be bigger, better, more romantic, and sexier than theirs", said Vince stubbornly. "We have to get all the attention, and take it away from them".

Howard saw with disquiet that Vince was arguing with him in the insistent way he did at rehearsals. He was treating this as part of their career, and just as he worked hard on getting the costumes right and making shapes, he wasn't going to give up until they had this down perfectly.

"Vince, forget about Lance and Harold. Don't you see that it's wrong to not only tell a lie, but to act one out? Not just for an hour in an interview, but every minute of every day, in private and in public, we would be pretending to be something we're not. I think it could do incredible damage to us individually, and to our friendship".

"Howard, just let me ask you one question", Vince said. "Do you love me?".

"You know I do, Vince", Howard said reproachfully. "I already told you I love you".

"And I said it back", said Vince. "We love each other, so that's all that matters".

"But Vince - ".

"Another question", Vince went on. "Did you love kissing me?".

That was a memory which still caused Howard a stab of pain, but he answered as calmly as he could.

" _You_ kissed _me_ – and you know how I felt about it. I was literally shouting it from the rooftops, if you recall".

"Well I loved kissing you too", said Vince, as if everything was sorted now.

"But Vince - ".

"And didn't you say you wanted me for your partner, and said we would be together forever, and promised you would never leave me? You said it was me and you all the way".

"Yes, but - ".

"Look Howard", said Vince. "We've been best friends since we were kids. We've literally been to Hell and back together. We've survived the Arctic and deserts and jungles. We've survived monsters and weirdos and our own nightmares. We've had the worst fights and hurt each other and hated each other's guts at times, but nothing has ever torn us apart. Do you seriously think pretending to be boyfriends is going to do what nothing else has?".

Howard was silent. He was dismayed to realise that Vince made a lot of sense – but then, Vince's most bonkers arguments had a way of sounding very persuasive.

"Howard, if we love each other and love kissing each other and been friends for years and promised to stay together no matter what, don't you think we're already doing better than a lot of other couples?", said Vince, more gently now.

Howard knew that was a dangerous sign. Vince always got sweet and gentle with him once he knew he'd won the argument and got his own way. No one could be a more magnanimous conqueror than Vince Noir.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but – okay, we'll try it", said Howard. He was afraid this would be the final straw that destroyed his heart and shattered it into a million pieces, but he found it so hard to deny Vince what he wanted.

"This is going to be genius", Vince said with a toothy sunshine grin.

Howard wondered how you sealed the deal on becoming fake boyfriends. A handshake, a fist bump, a high five? Vince just hugged him more closely than usual, and kissed him on the cheek.

Howard feared he'd just made the worst mistake of his life – and that would be saying something.

************************************************

Vince thought the sooner he and Howard were seen in public the better, provided they could act like a normal couple. So he suggested they take a walk through the streets of Dalston together (he had often seen couples strolling by the Nabootique, and secretly longed for he and Howard to do the same, the soppy git). It turned out to be harder than he had imagined.

Vince wanted he and Howard to walk with their arms around each other's waists, all teenage summer love, while Howard thought a casual arm around the shoulders would be more suitable. Each turned out to be incredibly awkward, and at one point, they attempted to do both at once, which was a disaster. They also discovered that the streets were crowded enough on a Friday evening that walking side by side wasn't really possible at times, unless they wanted to barge into people all over the place and become a public nuisance.

Vince tried to hold hands with Howard, but Howard pulled his hand away, and said he wasn't ready for that yet. He was clearly getting stressed about the whole thing, but Vince was so irritated by now he wasn't in the mood for being understanding.

"Don't be stupid, Howard", he snapped. "It's just holding hands, you berk".

"Holding hands is very intimate", Howard said. "And I've never done it before; I don't know where to put my fingers and I'm worried I'll accidentally hurt you or my hand will get sweaty. It's too much, too soon".

"You have so held hands; we did it in bed loads of times when we lived at the Zooniverse", Vince pointed out.

"Yes but I was always asleep so it didn't count", said Howard, looking shifty.

"Amazing you know about something that happened when you were asleep then", said Vince coldly.

"Erm, well ... the thing about that is ... you see Vince, it's different because ..."

"Oh shut up with your piss poor excuses", said an angry Vince. "We're meant to be acting like a proper couple, and you won't even hold hands with me".

"We're having a squabble in public – we're acting _exactly_ like a normal couple", said Howard triumphantly. He glared fiercely at a man outside the local pub who gave them a curious look.

"No we're not acting like a normal couple, we're acting like a psycho couple", said Vince in a temper. "What you don't seem to realise - ".

What he didn't seem to realise was to ever remain a mystery, because at that moment Howard saw a bank of people carrying cameras out of the corner of his eye.

He roughly shoved Vince up against the brick wall next to the pub, pinned him firmly by the shoulders, and kissed him forcefully. Vince opened his mouth, possibly to say something like, _What the hell do you think you're doing?_ , which Howard took as an invitation to kiss harder, now holding Vince's face between his hands. Vince thought it was probably good Howard wasn't using tongue, but a second later quite a lot of tongue was getting into the mix. Howard's use of tongue was likewise quite forceful, almost domineering. Vince's face kind of hurt a bit.

Howard pulled back, looking flushed and pleased with himself. Vince dizzily thought he had never seen Howard look so handsome, almost ... magnificent.

"What was _that_?", Vince demanded in a voice still slightly out of breath.

"Well I saw some paparazzi, and thought I'd better take immediate action", explained Howard with a gesture. "Just in case they wanted to take some photos of us, to prove we're a real couple".

Vince looked at where Howard was pointing.

"They're tourists", said Vince flatly. "They're wearing Union Jack tee-shirts and carrying backpacks with a flag on it that has a red cross".

"Iceland", said Howard knowledgeably; he was good at flags.

"Bleeding Geography teacher", Vince commented bitterly. "Come on, let's go home".

He started loping back the way they had come with long strides, leaving Howard to hurry after him. Vince refused to even look at Howard, and there was no attempt to walk alongside him as if they were a couple.

Howard wondered what he'd done wrong. He hadn't been lucky in love, but this was a new low even for him. He'd finally got with someone he loved, but of course it had to be a fake relationship concocted as part of a ludicrous revenge plot, not anything normal, and now it hadn't even survived a ten minute walk before being over, and he didn't know why.

***********************************************

When they got home, they walked upstairs into the living room, where Vince confronted Howard.

"So what was that kiss all about, then?".

"I told you, Vince – I thought I saw paparazzi. It was an honest mistake".

"Yeah but why did you kiss me like _that_?", persisted Vince. "You didn't kiss me like I was your boyfriend, but like some rough trade you picked up in the pub".

"I'm sorry if I wasn't very good at it", said Howard miserably. "I wasn't prepared and didn't have time to think".

"Not very good?", said Vince. "Are you joking? It was sexy as _fuck_ , and I want you to find the filthiest, most disgusting alley there is and push me up against it, and kiss me like that again". He looked at Howard, his eyes shining, and two bright spots of red on his pale cheeks.

"Um well, the alley next to The Knackered Mare is probably the filthiest in the area", said a bemused Howard. "But it might be a bit _too_ disgusting – I mean it smells of urine and vomit most of the time. And once I walked past it late at night, and I think I might have seen a dead body. It may not be very safe".

"Oh okay, not the filthiest then. Just a regular alley that's a little bit dirty".

Howard took a small notebook out of the pocket of his brown cords, and started writing in it with a pencil stub from the opposing pocket.

"Are you writing this all down or something?", asked Vince.

"Yes, just making a memorandum to myself to find a nice suitable slightly dirty but not too disgusting alley in a fairly safe location", said Howard, looking efficient.

"Not very spontaneous", said Vince, sounding disappointed.

"Don't worry Vince – when the time comes, it will be a complete surprise for you", Howard promised.

Vince supposed he would have to get used to Howard being like this, even when it came to kissing. It was thoughtful at least, he decided.

"Anyway, I'd better show you how to snog like we're boyfriends", said Vince. "So you're ready next time".

"You mean there'll be a next time?", said Howard, looked stunned.

"Yeah 'course – you're not going to kiss me and then chuck me a second time, Howard. I couldn't stand it".

Howard didn't even say that it had actually been Vince who kissed Howard and then chucked _him_ , not the other way around; he was just too glad that their fake relationship wasn't over after all. He hadn't known why it seemed to be finished so fast, and now he had no idea why it was back on, but he didn't want to question Vince unless it all ended again, leaving him even more hurt and confused.

Vince pulled Howard into an embrace, then very gently kissed him on the lips. Howard tentatively kissed him back, trying not to be too forceful this time. He could feel how soft Vince's lips were on his, so he made his mouth as soft and giving in return as he could. The kiss deepened, and Howard found that pleasure was spreading all over his body in consequence, and somehow he knew the same thing was happening to Vince. Howard began to relax into the kiss, enjoying the feel of Vince in his arms.

"Can I touch your hair, Vince?", Howard whispered. He had learned from painful experience that Vince could get very angry if his hair was messed with.

"You can touch anything you like", Vince murmured back.

Howard made a noise that was halfway between a moan and a growl as he buried his fingers in Vince's long dark hair, dragging Vince even closer to him.

"Where would you like to be touched?", asked Vince, having learned from painful experience that Howard could be very skittish about unexpected physical contact.

"Everywhere", said Howard recklessly.

It wasn't really what he had meant to say, he had got swept up in the moment, but it seemed that Vince was going to take him at his word.

Howard gave a sharp intake of breath as Vince pulled up Howard's shirt to put his hands beneath it, but he didn't complain. He wouldn't tell Vince to stop if it killed him.

It would have been a waste of time, nothing could stop Vince now. He had a lot of touching to make up for.

*************************************************

When Naboo and Bollo got home, they found Vince and Howard still snogging in the living room. Howard's shirt was unbuttoned, and he and Vince had their groins pressed together. Howard was groping Vince's arse.

"So you ballbags suck face now?", asked Naboo impassively.

"The Horrid make mess of Vince's precious hair", whimpered Bollo.

Howard and Vince looked at them: they hadn't heard their flatmates until now. Vince couldn't decide whether to look surprised to see them, or just smug – he ended up with a dopey expression that was possibly a cross between both these states.

"We're a couple now", announced Howard, putting a protective arm around Vince. "And if I want to kiss my boyfriend in the living room, I will – because ... er, we've hidden our love for too long". Vince added an adoring gaze up at Howard to his already idiotic face.

Naboo noticed with distaste that Howard seemed to have love bites all over his chest and stomach.

"Not really hidden it that well, ballbag", Naboo informed him. "Maybe take it into your room, 'cos we don't all need to see it, yeah?".

"I've got a bad feeling about this", intoned Bollo gloomily.

Everyone looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"No, I really do", insisted Bollo. "This isn't some mindless catchphrase, I actually fear something terrible is going to happen whenever I say that". He stumped into the kitchen, followed by Naboo.

Howard and Vince slunk off to their bedroom together, Howard fiddling with his shirt and smoothing down his beige cardigan, and Vince giggling furtively behind his hands over being busted by Naboo and Bollo.

Howard closed the door and leaned against it.

"You were brilliant, Howard", Vince said, throwing himself on Howard's bed. "I mean, not just brilliant at snogging, but brilliant the way you told them we were together."

Howard blushed at being told he was a brilliant kisser.

"Well if we're really going to go through with this they had to know some time, and it's probably best they find out straight away", he said.

"What do you mean, _if_ we're going through with this?", frowned Vince. "Don't back out on me now, Howard or I'll seriously go spare".

"Are you okay with lying to our friends?", asked Howard, sitting on the bed next to Vince.

"So you think of this as lying?", Vince said in a hurt tone. "Saying you loved me was a lie, kissing me was a lie?".

"No of course not", said Howard, putting an arm around him. "But wasn't this whole thing something you made up for a magazine?".

"Just because you make something up doesn't mean it's not real", Vince said with an enigmatic smile.

Howard knew what he meant – they both had experience of making something up that had gone on to develop a life of its own. He didn't like thinking about it though; at times there was something strange and terrifying about the way their imaginations worked.

"Anyway we got sent in here to snog, so why aren't we snogging?", continued Vince.

"We're meant to be kissing so everyone knows we're a couple, but they won't know anything if we kiss in here", Howard pointed out. "If we're quiet behind a closed door, we could be asleep, for all they know".

"Let's have really noisy sex then", said Vince playfully.

"I'm seriously not ready for that", said Howard, looking alarmed.

"Yeah, you wouldn't hold hands, so I already figured a bumming was out of the question", said Vince with a grin.

"Sorry I was stupid about holding hands", said Howard. "You're right, it was dishonest to pretend I didn't know we were holding hands all that time, but doing it by ourselves in bed at night is different from doing it in the street".

Vince snickered at this, then said, "Hold my hand now".

Howard shyly took Vince's hand in his. He didn't know what to do, so he gently rubbed Vince's knuckles. Vince curled his fingertips around Howard's big hand, and kissed the freckles on it.

"You don't need to worry about bumming anyway", said Vince. "We don't have anything, so we couldn't do it if we wanted to. And Boots is closed".

"We have to buy things from Boots in the High Street for _that_?", said Howard in horror. "The girl on the front counter only looks about sixteen: I can't ask her to help me get bummed; I'll be arrested!".

Vince stifled his giggles and tried to look serious. Howard was making it difficult, though.

"Yeah maybe I should do the actual shopping", he said with a straight face achieved only with great effort. "You'd sound well dodgy – you'd come at her like a perverted supply teacher who can't keep his hands to himself".

Howard gave a brief demonstration of what a perverted supply teacher with wandering hands might actually do to Vince. Presumably this taught Vince a lesson of some kind: at least he seemed like a very willing student.

"Stop stalling", Vince said sternly, pulling out of Howard's grasp. "It's time to have that noisy sex".

"But you said - ".

"Don't worry, we'll fake it", said Vince. "Good chance for you use your acting skills. Lie down on the bed".

Howard looked worried, but obediently lay face down on the bed. He was going to have fake sex with his fake boyfriend; it was just typical of his life, really.

"Turn over", said Vince gently. "You don't need to face away from me. Ain't you ever seen two blokes together?".

"Only in arthouse films", said Howard in embarrassment. "And they usually did it that other way, and it didn't really show anything".

Vince straddled Howard, and said thoughtfully, "Maybe we should watch some videos".

"There's instructional videos for it?", said Howard in surprise.

"Yeah sort of: except sometimes they're not very realistic". Vince unbuttoned all Howard's buttons again – he'd done half of them back up.

"What's unrealistic about them?", asked Howard in curiosity.

"Well do you remember when the back door broke, and you got that video out from the library on how to mend it? And remember how it said to oil it really well?"

"Yeah".

"And what size screwdriver did you need?".

"Oh a fairly standard quarter inch head", said Howard, unsure where this was going.

"Well imagine that the instructional video didn't bother with the oil".

"But that could do irreparable damage to the door!", said Howard indignantly.

"And imagine they used a four inch screwdriver to fix it".

"That's insane! I've never even seen a screwdriver head that big", protested Howard.

"Yeah but it's like a fantasy where you don't need oil and the screwdriver can be huge", said Vince.

Howard mulled the analogy over. He thought he understood, but it sounded disturbing rather than erotic. And he was pretty sure the library wouldn't have anything like that among their videos – it was mostly DIY and kid's programs.

"Okay Howard", said Vince. "I'm going to start banging the bed into the wall, and you yell stuff out".

"Like what?", asked Howard.

"Dunno – like _Ooh Vince you're so fucking big_ or something", Vince suggested.

"Nobody will believe that", said Howard doubtfully.

"Thanks a fuck of a lot, you size queen", said Vince, sounding wounded.

"No I didn't mean _that_. I meant it doesn't sound like something I'd say".

"Well think of something, and remember, you're a real screamer", said Vince, beginning to rock the bed backwards and forwards with his hips so it slightly scraped the wall. Doing so involved rubbing Howard's crotch in the process, which Howard thought might be a bit distracting for his performance.

"You are a very skilful lover, Vince", he yelled, feeling foolish. "I've never been with someone so considerate of my needs".

"Make it shorter and hornier", Vince said, rubbing Howard's nipples. He was glad all the Jazzercise hadn't got rid of Howard's sexy man tits.

"Oh wow that feels great", Howard said in genuine pleasure. He had very sensitive nips.

"Good, but louder", Vince instructed, running his fingers over Howard's chest and stomach.

"Mm, yeah keep doing that", Howard begged.

"You're getting better at this", Vince praised him. He licked Howard's nipples.

Vince was satisfied with Howard's response to that, and sped up the rate he was banging the bed (and sort of banging Howard in the process).

Howard continued to give a satisfactory performance, and Vince thought he really was a good actor. He was not only totally convincing as a man in the throes of sexual passion, but was coming up with some very creative lines; Vince was impressed, and also turned on by it. Anyone listening in (which meant anyone home and not actually deaf) would think they were doing something well filthy.

"I think I'm going to come, Vince", said Howard in a panicked voice.

"Genius", said Vince, banging the bed so hard it was almost smashing into the wall.

"No, I'm serious", Howard panted. "I'm going to come in my brown cords and I only just washed them".

This is what Vince meant – so original in his impromptu lines. Vince banged faster and faster while rubbing Howard's bulging brown-corded crotch with his hand.

"Oh Vince, you're so fucking beautiful", Howard screamed.

********************************************

"Is it just me, or are those two ballbags getting even weirder?", asked Naboo, lying on the kitchen floor in a haze of green smoke.

"No, they get weirder", confirmed Bollo. He had his head in the oven trying to block out the sound of fake yet slightly real sex.

"And is that purple goblin on the ceiling getting weirder?", asked Naboo.

Bollo looked out from the oven to see.

"It may be a bit weirder", said Bollo uncertainly.

"Good, I was worried I might just be really stoned", said Naboo.

"No, that just paranoia", said Bollo wisely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the timeline in the story. Howard and Vince's birthdays are on the summer and winter solstices, with Howard a Cancer (born June 21) and Vince a Capricorn (celebrating his birthday on December 21), which are Julian and Noel's Moon signs: The Boosh seems very lunar. (I actually think of Vince as a Pisces, but that didn't fit the timing of the narrative – and it makes thematic sense that they be exact opposites of each other). Howard thus came back from Denmark in early December, and the story opens in early April – because what other month could these two fools get together?
> 
> (In the show, Howard's birthday party was held on a Bank Holiday, probably to imply that Howard's birthday was in early May, just like Julian's. However, Whit Monday was once a Bank Holiday, and it is possible for it fall on June 21, so if we assume they stuck with the old system in Howard and Vince's universe, I haven't tinkered that much with canon here, although don't try to make it fit with an actual calendar or moon phases or something or the whole thing falls apart).
> 
> In the real world, it was "Vice" magazine that described Julian as looking like a "bohemian badger".
> 
> You can see the (equivalent) brick wall Howard snogged Vince against if you go down Dalston Lane – there's a small pub called The Three Compasses, with a plain brick building next door to it: in our world, a church youth club. Further up the street are little shops with flats over them, similar to where Howard and Vince live. The Knackered Mare only exists in their universe, but from the name I'd guess it might be on Mare Street in Hackney. Descriptions of London in the story are a mixture of completely real places, real places with an imaginary twist on them, imaginary places that are strongly based on real ones, and completely imaginary ones. I'll only occasionally bother to point out which is which.
> 
> Sorry about all these author's notes – somehow I seem to have turned into flipping Tolkien. I'm afraid they just keep going, too. I'll probably end up writing The Booshmarillion or something.


	2. A Bit Viral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of Vince and Howard's fake romantic relationship, and an old friend turns out to play a pivotal role in it.

Howard got in from Jazzercise the next morning, finding that he still couldn't stop smiling. He had smiled his way through Jazzercise, looking both proud and shifty, until he realised that nobody in his Jazzercise class read _Cheekbone_ and knew about his fake romantic relationship with Vince, and even if they did, they wouldn't care.

He had smiled as he cycled to Camden and back, and it was pretty clear he was going to keep smiling while he showered and changed. Apparently all it took to make him smile non-stop was to sleep the night through with Vince curled up in his arms. Thinking about that made him smile some more.

After his shower he made a pot of tea and started getting breakfast ready, when Vince came out of their bedroom, dressed in a red silk kimono and still wearing his high-heeled ankle boots. He seemed remarkably chipper as well.

"Morning, gorgeous", he said, putting his arms around Howard and kissing him.

"Er, good morning Vince", Howard said, feeling strangely shy. "I was going to make you breakfast in bed". He had an idea that was the sort of thing you should do for your fake boyfriend.

"You don't have to do that, Howard", said Vince, giving him a little tickle under his clothes. "I don't like eating much in the mornings".

"I'll get you some fruit and yoghurt", Howard said, wriggling slightly; he knew Vince could be tempted into eating if it was something sweet.

"I can't believe you still went to Jazzercise", said Vince. "You've got a boyfriend now – let yourself go, Howard".

"Is that what you're planning on doing, Vince?", said Howard sceptically as he chopped fruit.

"Oh yeah – I'll be living in this kimono from now on", said Vince with a grin. "Think I'll slap some Pond's on my face and put curlers in my hair too".

It concerned Howard slightly that he found this idea arousing. He finished getting the breakfast, and carried it into the living room. As soon as Howard sat down on the sofa, Vince got astride his lap and started kissing him. Howard didn't think Vince was wearing anything under his kimono.

"We haven't even had breakfast yet", squeaked Howard.

"I would have thought you'd eaten enough last night", said Vince cheekily as he nibbled on Howard's earlobe.

Howard went red, and Vince thought how incredibly hot it was that Howard blushed so easily. He was like a six foot two schoolgirl with huge hands, a moustache, and stubble. (The gentle reader may decide for themselves whether Vince referred to the dinner they'd eaten the previous night, or something else. Although why dinner would make anyone blush, I don't know).

"You should be glad you've got a boyfriend that likes snogging you", said Vince reprovingly, as he gave further evidence of that.

"A fake boyfriend, you mean", said Howard, feeling as if this point had got lost somewhere along the way.

"I _think_ I'm real", said Vince, as if there might be some doubt attached to it. "Here, have a feel of me to make sure".

Vince untied his kimono. He definitely wasn't wearing anything underneath it. Howard did everything he could to ascertain Vince's reality. His research was to be commended for its thoroughness. Some kind of academic grant was probably in order.

"And I'd better see if _you're_ real", said Vince, beginning to undo Howard's trousers. "I mean, I'm not sure this bit is real or not – I heard it's just eight pairs of socks stuffed into your pants".

"That's just a rumour, Vince", Howard said in a strained voice. "I can assure you there are no socks down there, and – hey, careful with that ... and those ... You should be eating your breakfast, not mucking about in my pants, you little titbox ...".

"Don't worry Howard", said Vince in his most angelic voice. "I'll be eating my breakfast off you. In fact, you might end up being part of my breakfast".

Howard did what he was told, and stopped worrying.

************************************************

"I'd only just put those trousers on, and now I have to wash them again", complained Howard, having changed into olive green chinos.

"Never knew you had such an obsession with washing clothes", replied Vince. "You even started muttering about it again before you jizzed. It's going to become my fetish if you keep it up".

"I'm running out of clothes to wear", moaned Howard.

"Brilliant – I'll take you shopping and buy you some more", said Vince, his eyes lighting up at the thought of dressing Howard.

"How come nothing ever ends up on _your_ clothes?", asked Howard resentfully.

"I know how to keep myself clean", said Vince virtuously. "Even as a kid I didn't get dirt on my clothes".

"Beauty is never tarnished", said Howard absent-mindedly, as he washed the dishes.

Vince gave him a hug and a kiss for that. Howard turned and kissed him back tenderly; even though he got wet soapy hands all over Vince, there were no marks on his kimono. It wasn't even damp.

"What are we doing, Vince?", Howard asked quietly.

"Let's not think about it", said Vince. "I just want to know you're happy, Howard".

"Very happy", Howard replied.

He didn't tell Vince that he was so happy it was starting to make him feel frightened. He didn't even know what scared him – fear that it would all be taken away, or that he would clumsily destroy it, or perhaps the state of happiness in itself could bring on anxiety for him.

"I'm glad about that, Howard", said Vince. "Because I'm off my tits on happiness right now".

"Good", said Howard shortly.

He wondered why Vince had to qualify his happiness with right now, as if he wouldn't be in a minute. Maybe Vince always lived in the moment. Maybe Vince was just made happy very easily, and would be equally happy with somebody else, or nobody, or something shiny. Maybe he was overthinking it, right after Vince had told him not to think about it. Maybe ...

While Howard tied himself into the sort of existential knots that would have had even Jean-Paul Sartre saying, _Dude - just chill, okay?_ , Vince checked the messages on his phone. There was one from Leroy, with a link to open.

"Oh wow, look at this, Howard", said Vince excitedly. "You were right after all – there _was_ someone taking a photo of us yesterday".

"What? An Icelandic tourist?".

"No, a guy with a website called Cool Sexy Gay Hackney. He must have been behind the tourists, or maybe he hides himself in big groups so he can anonymously take photos of cool sexy gay things in Hackney".

"So is the website for cool things, sexy things, _and_ gay things in Hackney, or for things that are cool and sexy and gay all at once in Hackney?".

"Oh who cares, Howard – just look at our photo!".

Howard looked, with some apprehension. There he was, snogging Vince against a brick wall next to the pub on a spring evening. At the time, he hadn't really thought about whether he and Vince were enjoying the kiss or not – he'd just grabbed him and gone at it. But looking at the photo, the overwhelming impression he got was of two people suddenly discovering a mutual hunger for each other, caught in a moment of shared passion. He had to admit, it was a sexy photo.

"It looks ... good", he said slowly. And as he read the caption: "He knows who we are Vince – it says _Musical duo Howard Moon and Vince Noir of The Mighty Boosh on a street in Dalston_ ".

"I didn't see that", said Vince. "Genius, this is fantastic, Howard. Lance and Harold haven't been called cool and sexy and gay".

"Why was Leroy looking at this site anyway?", asked Howard.

"Why do you _think_?", said Vince incredulously.

"But Leroy lives in Camden now, not Hackney", argued Howard.

"Just because you live in one borough doesn't mean you can't be interested in another", replied Vince. "Be a bit more broadminded, Howard".

"You mean that Leroy is _borough-curious_?", said Howard, smiling into his moustache as if he'd made an incredibly witty remark.

"Oh my Jagger, you make jokes like a perverted supply teacher and all", said Vince in disgust. "Anyway, let's see who our competition is. Who else has he photographed recently?".

He started scrolling through older photos.

"Shit, it's those two Gothic girls we double-dated yonks ago", said Vince in surprise. "Alice and Estella, or whatever their names were".

"Anthrax and Ebola?".

"Yeah. They are really going for it, doing much more than kissing. Or at least, not kissing on the lips. Or at least, not the lips on the face".

Howard looked over his shoulder.

"And look where they are – the alley next to The Knackered Mare!", Howard said.

"Ooh yuck, it looks really disgusting", shuddered Vince. "They're pretty much doing it in a pool of vomit. And is that a dead body next to them?".

"Do you think they killed someone?", said Howard. "I seem to remember they were pretty stabby".

"Anyway, I definitely don't want to snog in that alley _now_ ", said Vince. "It will get all touristy from being on this website".

Howard took out his notebook and pencil, and made a memorandum that Vince didn't want to be snogged in an alley that was unoriginal and touristy.

"Do you think our brick wall will get touristy?", he asked Vince.

"Sure to", said Vince. "I'll get changed, you do my hair, and then we'll go out and see if anyone is snogging at our brick wall yet".

"Okay", said Howard. "And then let's see whether The Knackered Mare alley has got touristy yet and if that has more tourists than us, and then we'll go to rehearsal at the club, and then I'll take you to lunch at the cafe across the road from it".

Shortly afterwards, Howard and Vince walked down the street, Howard holding Vince's hand in his. They didn't see anyone snogging at their wall, but as they went past, someone asked if they could take a photo of them snogging, and they agreed. Vince giggled that they were becoming a Hackney tourist attraction themselves.

Later on, their after-rehearsal hug turned into something far more interesting. I mean, it was no Anthrax and Ebola situation, but it was still pretty good. And nobody had to vomit or get killed, which is always a plus in my book.

************************************************

Many hours later, Naboo and Bollo staggered out of bed.

"Oh can you believe this?", said Naboo. "It stinks out here – those two ballbags have been doing it in our living room. This is just revolting. And why is there natural yoghurt all over the place?".

Bollo didn't say anything, but gave him a look which meant, "I told you so".

Even with a raging case of the munchies, Naboo and Bollo discovered they really didn't have an appetite any more. And Naboo was positive he would never be able to eat yoghurt again.

************************************************

When Vince checked his phone again at lunch time, there were several more texts from Leroy.

"Hey I think we've gone a bit viral", said Vince as he looked through them.

"Is that good or bad?", asked Howard.

"Good. The photo from Cool Sexy Gay Hackney has been re-blogged a fair few times, and there's a website called Howince Forever with our photo on it. What's a Howince?".

"I think it's our names put together – Howard and Vince", said Howard, noticing that the website's title was surrounded by lurid pink and purple love hearts.

"Why does your name have to be first?", complained Vince. "Why can't it be Vinward Forever?".

"It sounds like someone mispronouncing Steve Winwood's surname, that's why", said Howard, pleased he got mentioned first for a change.

"What about Vinhow?", Vince persisted.

"Sounds like a cheap boxed wine".

"Well how about Noon – a cross between Noir and Moon?".

"Yeah Noon Forever, that won't confuse anybody", mocked Howard. "Who's set this website up?".

"Leroy", said Vince, reading Leroy's texts. "He's been hired as media manager by The Velvet Onion".

"What about his job at the laser copy centre?", asked Howard.

"He's still doing that – he's managing our media on his breaks", explained Vince. "And he's just sent a text asking us for more photos, and can we pose for some with no shirts on, and maybe say what our favourite thing about each other is, and our pet names for each other".

"I don't know how comfortable I feel with all this", Howard fretted. "What about our privacy?".

"The whole idea is get all the attention", said Vince impatiently. "And it's working – Lance and Harold don't have a website devoted to them, and their names sound stupid put together. No one wants to read a website called Lanold Forever".

Howard had been Vince's fake boyfriend for about seventeen hours, and already he had been outed by a fashion magazine, snogged in front of Icelandic tourists, been busted by his flatmates, had fake sex, gone through four pairs of trousers, been someone's breakfast, identified as a key part of cool sexy gay Hackney, recognised in the street, got his own website, and received a celebrity couple name.

The trouble was that all his favourite parts of the experience were things that he and Vince could have done together anyway, if only he'd been brave enough to talk to him earlier. All he really wanted to do was walk hand in hand with Vince, kiss him, and snuggle in bed with him, but instead he had to become a tiresome self-promoting wannabe to please Vince. It suddenly seemed exhausting, and he hoped that the hand-holding, kissing, and snuggling would be enough compensation.

*************************************************

The Mighty Boosh got more than double the usual amount of punters at their gig at The Velvet Onion that night, so it seemed as if _Cheekbone_ , Cool Sexy Gay Hackney, and Howince Forever had had an impact already. Vince was thrilled at the success of his idea, and even Howard had to admit that there was a much better atmosphere with a larger audience.

The Icelandic tourists had come to see them at the club: Leroy told Howard some of them had taken their own photos of Howard and Vince snogging, and had sent them in to Howince Forever. Vince said that Icelandic people really knew how to party like mental cases. They'd brought all their backpacker friends from various countries with them – it seemed as if the Icelanders and the Australians were having a contest to see who could drink the most. It wasn't clear who was winning, but the first group seemed likely to prevail in the long run.

Leroy had come to the gig as their media manager, and was taking photos of the event that could be used on either The Velvet Onion website or Howince Forever. In the interval, he made Howard and Vince pose for shirtless photos, which he promised the fans would love, although Howard thought it seemed tacky. Was this unprofessional? Shouldn't the fans be there just for the music? Did Leroy really need to get in so close? And was anyone going to laugh at his man boobs? These were just some of his worries.

Leroy also told Howard to make sure he gave Vince a good snog at the end of the gig just before they came off stage. He suggested a cheeky wink at the audience might be in order, but Howard refused to do that – it was a bit too _Carry On_ and not enough jazz-funk. The snog received an enthusiastic cheer from the audience, and Howard hoped this wasn't getting gimmicky. He couldn't imagine John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk swapping spit at the end of a set in 1957.

After the gig, a ton of fans rushed up to Vince to have him sign autographs and take a photo of themselves with him. Howard didn't mind that Vince got all the attention: he seemed to love it, and was very good with people; he made everyone feel as if they were a close friend of his while they were with him. A few even gave Vince little presents – one was a handmade bracelet with _Howince_ on it in coloured glass beads.

Howard suddenly noticed a young woman hanging around nervously as if waiting to see him. He was terrible at guessing women's ages, but she looked somewhere between fourteen and twenty-three (and must be over eighteen since this was a club). She was tall and lanky, scruffily dressed, and her hair was a mess. He had a horrible feeling she might be the female version of himself. If she started banging on about Weather Report and biros, he would be sure of it.

Howard was hopeless at seeing when people were attracted to him, but the woman seemed to be giving him the unnerving stare he thought he recognised from Old Gregg and Eleanor. He had his photo taken with her rather awkwardly – she had seemed alarmed to be in close proximity to Howard, and abruptly handed him a jar of rosehip jam she muttered she'd made herself, before running away into the crowd without another word.

Vince usually stayed much later at the club than he did, and Howard supposed he had to wait for him, now that they were fake boyfriends. But it was only another few minutes before Vince came running up to him, grinning and saying they'd better go home.

"You've got Jazzercise at dawn, Howard, we need to get you to bed".

Howard couldn't believe how filled with longing he was to get into bed with Vince, and sleep holding him close in his arms. After just one night, it felt like an essential part of his routine.

As they walked home, Howard told Vince about his lone fan.

"I mean you get jewellery, I get jam. What does that say about me?".

"It's rosehip jam – maybe it's the blokey equivalent of getting flowers?", suggested Vince.

"And she was staring at me in the oddest way, and then ran away at the end".

"Oh well you always get the nutters, don't you Howard?", said Vince. "People _like_ me and everything, just as a bit of fun. But you inspire an obsessive passion in the sort of weirdo that wants to lock you in their attic and slowly eat all your hair. You're lucky you found a normal person like me to be your boyfriend".

Howard gave a shifty sideways glance. Vince was wearing a jumpsuit made entirely from clear cellophane with cardboard cut-outs of yellow butterflies stapled artfully all over it, and a pair of silver knee boots. He had made Howard a complementary stage costume, which was a silver-grey jacket suit with a print of rust-brown moths on it.

"You're the best fake boyfriend a man holding a jar of jam ever had", said Howard sincerely.

They were walking past the pub, and Vince suddenly grabbed Howard and snogged him passionately against the brick wall. Howard realised that Vince was putting his hand down his trousers (had he deliberately designed the suit to be easy to get into?), and made a muffled protesting noise.

"Don't worry, Howard", Vince reassured him. "This suit is getting dry-cleaned anyway".

**********************************************

When they got home, Naboo started giving them a telling-off about leaving the living room in a mess and could they _please_ stay in their own room if they wanted to do anything filthy and disgusting, especially if it involved dairy products?

They thought the lecture would never end, but luckily Naboo spotted the jar of jam Howard was holding. It turned out that rosehip jam was exactly the ingredient he'd been searching for to complete an especially complex potion.

"Oh sure, you can have it", said Howard in relief.

"The only thing is, it has to have been made a virgin, yeah?", Naboo specified.

Howard thought back to the woman at the club. Lanky, awkward, nervous, scruffy. A bit shifty, too scared to talk to him properly, ran away when under stress. Made her own jams from the wild fields and hedgerows. Basically the female version of him.

"Yes Naboo", he said firmly. "Definitely a virgin".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see this, this isn't a slow burn/UST type story. I couldn't do that to Vince and Howard after they already waited so long, and I always thought once let off the leash, these two would be straight into each other. But they'll be taking things at a fairly realistic pace.
> 
> I hope nobody minds that Vince is much more popular than Howard – it's the reality of being in a band, the frontman always gets most of the attention and adulation. In real life, Noel said he often gets jewellery from fans, while Julian once got a hamper that included homemade pasta. He seemed slightly bemused by it. Like Howard, Julian seems less comfortable with fans compared to Noel and Vince.


	3. Meet the Press

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Vince have to deal with media interest in their relationship, especially from the gay community. And Howard encounters a horribly familiar character from the local press. Be warned there's some silly stereotypes in this chapter used for comedic purposes and not to be taken seriously in any way – and this will continue from time to time ...

A week after Howard had agreed to become Vince's fake boyfriend, he got a call from the _Hackney Gay and Lesbian News_ asking for an interview. They had rung the Nabootique at a time when he was the only one there – Vince was very late to work that day, like most days. Howard decided a brief interview wouldn't hurt, and agreed to meet the journalist at lunch time. 

Two things bothered Howard. One was that the journalist wanted to meet for a drink at The Knackered Mare. The other was that his name was Dave. 

In Howard's experience, men named Dave were loud and over-familiar, always in their shirtsleeves, called everyone a muppet, and were scrupulous about making sure you paid for the round, then suddenly disappeared when it was their shout, citing an urgent need to see a geezer about something or other. Then he told himself that this was a gay journalist named Dave, from a reputable local publication, and was sure to be very different. 

When Howard arrived at The Knackered Mare, he was struck by a strong smell of stale beer, overlaid with a faint aroma of urine and vomit. Even at lunch time, many of the patrons looked ready to kill someone, and didn't seem too fussy about who they started with. 

There was only one man in his shirtsleeves (they were rolled up), and he immediately shouted out: "Oi, Howard! Get over here, you muppet". 

Apparently having sex with men did not alter the fundamental Dave-ness of Daves. Howard's heart sank as he approached the man, saying, "Dave, I presume?". 

"You presume right, me old bum chum. Last one to arrive buys the first round. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them". 

Howard was pretty sure Dave _had_ actually made that rule up, but reluctantly bought two beers from a barman who looked as if he would be the first in when the killing started up. 

"So Howard", said Dave, taking out his notebook and pen. "Is this right? You and your partner Vince Noir are music duo The Mighty Boosh, and you recently came out as a gay couple in _Cheekbone_ magazine?". 

"Er, yes", said Howard. "It was really Vince who spoke to the magazine, although um, obviously I support his decision one hundred percent". 

"And I understand that you kept your relationship private for some time before that?". 

"Oh yes", Howard confirmed. "It didn't seem like anyone else's business, and we didn't want our relationship to be under scrutiny straight away". He was quite proud of coming up with that explanation. 

"Fair enough", said Dave. "Your life, you live it how you want, mate. So how long did it remain private?". 

"Um ... a while. In a way it feels as if we've been together forever, but on the other hand it still seems quite new". 

"And is this the first gay relationship you've both been in?", asked Dave. 

"Well yes ... but it's also the first serious relationship of any kind for either of us", said Howard uncomfortably. 

"That's slightly unusual, isn't it?", said Dave. "I mean you're both ... what? In your thirties or forties? Would you say it was a mid-life epiphany for you?". 

"We're only thirty-two", said Howard. 

"Bloody hell, you look much older than that", Dave said in astonishment. "I mean _you_ do; you look at least ten years older than Vince, maybe twenty". 

"Well I'm not", said Howard frostily. 

"So when did you discover that you were gay?". 

"Um, Vince isn't actually gay, he's bisexual", said Howard. 

"Okay, good; let's get the lingo correct, then we don't get sued or nothing", said Dave. "And what about you, Howard? When did you find out that you were gay?". 

"When Vince kissed me", said Howard, blushing. This was much more personal than he had expected. 

Dave stared at him. 

"Let me get this right, Howard. Until Vince kissed you, you had no suspicion that you were attracted to men in any way?". 

"I suppose I did, but I didn't put a label on those feelings", said Howard helplessly. "I didn't think about it properly until Vince kissed me". 

"And so once he kissed you, you suddenly realised you were gay?". 

"Oh yes. Once I made that leap across the physical boundary, it was forever, sir". 

"Must have been a hell of a kiss", said Dave. 

"Er yes, it was pretty special", said Howard in embarrassment. 

"And why did Vince kiss you if he didn't know you were attracted to men?". 

"Oh well, the moonlight ... a certain mood ... we'd both maybe had a drink or two -". Howard suddenly realised everything he was saying sounded like the lyrics to a Cole Porter song. He gave a cough and finished lamely: "I suppose he just got an urgent need to kiss me". 

"Sorry if that was difficult for you, Howard", said Dave, not looking sorry. "I'm sure gay fans of The Mighty Boosh will be interested to hear your story". 

"Does The Mighty Boosh have a gay following?", asked Howard with interest. 

"Have you actually _seen_ Vince?", asked Dave in disbelief. "Yes, you have a gay following". 

"So none of them follow The Mighty Boosh because of me?", asked Howard in disappointment.

Dave roared with laughter. 

"I like you Howard, I like a man who can poke fun at himself". 

"Hey I've seen men checking me out", said Howard defensively. "Checking out my hot pumpkin arse". 

"Joke's over now, Howard; stop pushing it", said Dave. He twiddled his pen. "What we all really want to know, is how a bloke like you ever scored a bit of totty like Vince in the first place".  

Howard flushed, and tried to sound dignified. 

"We've been friends since childhood, and built up a strong relationship over time. It all happened very slowly and naturally". 

"Like your angle, Howard", Dave said appreciatively. "Get in on the ground floor as a lowly stock boy, then gradually climb the ladder until you're the flipping CEO of the joint". 

"I'm not the CEO of our relationship, and Vince is not a bit of totty I scored!". 

"Relax mate, I'm not having a go", Dave soothed him. "I'm an old married man meself. Look, this is my husband, Mike". He rummaged around for his wallet to show Howard. 

Howard thought the name Mike sounded like a simple-minded patsy who would be easily taken in by men named Dave. He studied the photo. Mike looked uncomplicated and trusting, with a fresh, open face. Were all his stupid preconceived notions going to turn out to be correct today? 

"You must be very happy together", Howard said politely. 

"Can't complain", said Dave easily. "Anyway thanks for the interview, Howard. I'd love to stay for another pint, but I've got to see a geezer about something that's come up. Meeting him at The King Edward II". 

The King Edward II was the posh pub in Dalston. Howard wondered bitterly why this geezer got to meet Dave somewhere nice, while he had to hang out with Murder Incorporated. And did journalists conduct all their business in pubs? 

Howard lived in fear of the article in the _Hackney Gay and Lesbian News_ coming out filled with embarrassing personal details, but when it did, it more or less just repeated that Howard Moon and Vince Noir, otherwise known as The Mighty Boosh, had confirmed that they were in a romantic relationship, and that fans could check their website for further details. Possibly the newspaper's editor found Howard's story too unbelievable to print, and thought it might be a hoax. 

************************************************

The next publication to ask for an interview was _Gay Left Weekly_ , who contacted them through the Howince Forever website and arranged it with Leroy. He told them a journalist named Elliot Morgan would come to their flat after work, and to make a good impression, because this was a national newspaper, not just a local one. 

Howard supposed this was another chance to connect with their gay fans, and luckily he wasn't prejudiced against Elliots. Elliot would no doubt be a charming, educated, sensitive, and obviously left-wing gay man. He would probably write poetry in his spare time (Howard may have been vaguely thinking of T.S. Eliot here). Howard looked forward to meeting him. 

When Howard opened the door to Elliot's knock, he realised he must be getting old, because Elliot looked absurdly youthful. In fact, there seemed to be a twelve-year-old boy on the doorstep, neatly dressed in a three-piece suit, but Howard was determined to treat him with all due courtesy. 

"Welcome Elliot", he said hospitably "and please step through, sir". 

"What do you mean, _sir_?", frowned Elliot. "I'm clearly a woman". 

"Ah ... of course", said Howard. "Elliot, a lovely name for a lovely lady". 

Elliot looked aghast, but allowed herself to be ushered into the living room. She was far too polite to mention the smell in the flat, a heady combination of weed, gorilla, and semen, none of which she was exactly used to – at least, not in these quantities. (And she wasn't used to any quantity of gorilla). It made her wrinkle her nose slightly. 

Howard called Vince to come in and meet Elliot, and Vince bounded through, saying, "Hi, I'm Vince, and wow, what a little bloke you are, even smaller than Naboo. You're _tiny_ ". He seemed impressed, as if being tiny was something Elliot had worked hard to achieve. 

"I'm not a bloke", said poor Elliot. 

"Oh I get it, you're a Confuser like me", Vince burbled happily. "Is he a tiny little man? Is she a very short woman? Why not throw out all those labels and just be a person? In your case, a really small one". 

"I fail to see where the confusion lies", said Elliot starchily. "I have XX sex chromosomes, I have a vagina, I have a uterus, I have ovaries, I have breasts - ". 

"Not in that suit you don't", advised Vince. "And big deal, Howard has a cracking pair of tits, and he's not a woman. And my tits aren't bad – kind of perky". 

"Vince please!", said Howard in horror. "I'm so sorry Elliot, Vince can be very, er exuberant sometimes. He doesn't mean to be disrespectful". 

He brought out the tea and tried to smooth the situation over, although unfortunately he could tell Elliot hadn't taken to Vince. Everyone loved Vince, absolutely everyone. Except sometimes, people unaccountably didn't, and when they didn't, they tended to utterly loathe him. Vince wasn't like Marmite, where you either loved him or hated him – he was more like chocolate, where 97% of people couldn't get enough of him, and the other 3% got diarrhoea or broke out in a rash. Elliot seemed like she was in the diarrhoea and rash category. 

The people who hated Vince often preferred Howard, except he seemed to have got off on the wrong foot with Elliot as well. Impressing the national gay left had made a terrible start. 

It continued to go badly. Elliot had got Vince to confirm that he wasn't gay, he swung both ways.

"Except of course now I'm with Howard, so I'm strictly one-way forever. Well I mean there might be some switching here and there between us, we haven't quite got to that stage yet, and some days I might wear a dress if I feel like it ... You should see me in a dress, Elliot, I'm proper glam, you'd find me dead sexy". 

"I doubt it", said Elliot coolly. "I'm only attracted to women, I'm afraid". 

"What, all of them?", asked Vince in surprise. 

Elliot shot daggers at him. 

Howard didn't really help matters by explaining to Elliot he was a "massive gay-ist", and had "entered gaydom" after being kissed by Vince. Why he decided to trot out that winning anecdote when it had gone down so poorly with Dave, I don't know. 

"And what exactly is _gaydom_?", asked Elliot in bafflement. 

"I'm not sure – I can never remember if it means the domain of gayness, or the kingdom of gays", said Howard doubtfully. 

"I thought it meant gay and dominating", piped up Vince. "You wouldn't think it to look at him, Elliot, but Howard can be surprisingly domineering when he's in the right mood. Shoved me against a wall once and just went for it in front of some Icelandic tourists". 

"It was only a kiss", Howard said shyly. "And she knows about that, it's on the website". 

"Yes, but he's planning to do a surprise attack in an alley some time", said Vince. "He's made a note and everything". 

"Please Vince, that's private between _us_ ", squirmed Howard in embarrassment. "Can you please treat that as off the record, Elliot?". 

"Of course", said Elliot, who hadn't bothered writing it down anyway. "And may I ask Vince, if we could get back to this kiss that Howard mentioned before, what made you suddenly kiss Howard like that? It seems to have come out of nowhere". 

"I was in fear of my life", said Vince solemnly. 

"Excuse me?". 

(Howard signalled urgently to Vince to not say anything, but Vince thought he was signalling for more tea, and refilled his cup). 

"Well there was a furious shaman with a sword who was going to murder me because he thought I was seducing his wife in a cupboard, only I didn't know it was his wife, and if anything it was the other way around. So I kissed Howard so the shaman would think I was with Howard. Only ... you know, it was a genius kiss and everything, and I forgot the shaman even existed". 

"And then what happened?" 

"We fell off the roof", said Vince simply. 

"You were kissing on the _roof_?", Elliot asked in amazement. "Were you hurt when you fell?". 

"Nah, there was a bouncy castle beneath us, weren't there?", Vince reassured her. "And we had oh such a good time on it, and eventually ... well, you know the rest". 

Elliot looked thoroughly shaken by this story. It was ... simply preposterous. None of it made a lick of sense. Murderous shamans, swords, wives in cupboards, and a bouncy castle didn't sound like any coming out story she'd ever heard before. She wondered if Vince and Howard were slightly brain-damaged from their fall from the roof, and didn't realise it. 

She looked at both of them with sympathy. After this, she was far more tolerant with them, even after Vince suggested she call herself Ellie so people could tell she was a woman, and not a twelve-year-old boy dressed as a bank manager. 

"Great idea, Vinnie", she said as she took her leave of them. 

Howard sank into a chair and put his face in his hands. This was an unmitigated PR disaster. They had alienated all their gay and left-wing fans in one fell swoop, and would now be stuck with fascist homophobes. There was sure to be less of them, and they didn't sound nice at all. This could be the end of The Boosh, and he could feel a familiar wave of panic and dread coming over him. 

I'm sure I don't need to tell you that Vince told him not to worry. 

Howard was convinced that Elliot's article would be an absolute hatchet job on he and Vince as people, as a couple, as musicians, and as gay/bi/queer/whatever they were men. Maybe she could even get him thrown out of gaydom; he wasn't sure of the rules, or if there actually _were_ any rules. 

But he had misjudged Elliot badly. She was far too professional to let her own feelings get in the way, and it was a perfectly fair and balanced article with just enough human interest to intrigue readers. She was a talented writer, and Howard had been correct – she _did_ compose verse in her spare time. 

Howard felt very guilty for doubting her, and sent her flowers at the _Gay Left Weekly_ offices to say thank you. Vince wanted to send a box of chocolates, but Howard said she was sure to be allergic, so Vince sent a jar of jam instead. He told Howard they would make jam trendy again. Howard said jam had never been trendy. Elliot was even more convinced about the brain damage. 

***********************************************

Now that The Mighty Boosh had been covered by a fashion magazine and two gay newspapers, Howard thought it was about time somebody came along and actually wrote about their music. His wish was soon granted, but as is the way with whoever it is that grants our wishes but puts a nasty little spin on them, it was the devil himself who wrote a review of The Boosh's latest gig at The Velvet Onion. At least, Howard thought he was the devil incarnate, and nothing would persuade him otherwise. 

Locally-based pop culture magazine _Sugar Ape_ had sent along their head writer, who had made quite a name for himself as a cynical malcontent and hater of all things, not least himself. Fairly predictably, the writer had turned out a short essay pouring scorn on Howard, Vince, The Mighty Boosh, The Velvet Onion, Howince Forever, and most especially, anyone so lacking in intelligence and taste as to derive interest or enjoyment from any of the above. 

Howard's fury against this writer was boundless. He was a filthy cur, a smug snake in the grass, a sly fox, a wolf in wolf's clothing, a purveyor of weasel words, and any other unpleasant animal metaphor Howard could think up on the spot while very angry. The _Sugar Ape_ article had been dripping with barbed sarcasm, most of it aimed at Howard, who the writer had mocked mercilessly. As a musician, performer, songwriter, and lyricist, Howard had been skewered like a kebab, and his appearance had come in for some harsh criticism. The words stung. 

But Howard was most upset about the diabolically cunning way the writer had treated Vince. He had insulted him, yes, and made fun of his costumes and sets, but had done so in such a way that Howard could tell the writer had actually found Vince very appealing. He lingered on the way Vince's body looked, describing each part in almost loving detail, only to finish with a sneering back-handed compliment. The impression Howard got was that the writer had kissed Vince's body all over with his words, only to slap it hard at the end, and then laughed at him. 

The worst of it was that Vince was ecstatic about the article. He couldn't believe they had made it into the pages of _Sugar Ape_ , and was sure that _Dazed & Confused_ would be next. Vince told Howard that just being mentioned at all was a huge compliment, and that Howard shouldn't keep analysing every word and twisting it around so it meant something horrible. Howard wanted desperately to protect Vince from this creep, only Vince didn't think he needed protecting. 

"I thought you would have liked his work", Vince said. "He's clever like you – everyone says how clever he is". 

"Too clever by half", retorted Howard, who was too angry to come up with a clever insult of his own. 

"You can't be too clever", said Vince. "That's like being too handsome or too sweet. And he's meant to _know_ things, and he's got a certain something, hasn't he?". 

"You almost seem to admire this man", said Howard disapprovingly. 

"Well, he's very attractive", admitted Vince, looking down through his eyelashes in a fetching way. 

"How can you say that?", said Howard, fetched yet appalled. 

"I suppose he's just my type", shrugged Vince. "You should do your hair like him, Howard, it would really suit you". 

"I'd rather cut my head off". 

"At least grow your hair out a bit, you always look great with longer hair". 

"You said I looked like Kris Kristofferson with long hair". 

"Mm, yummy Kris Kristofferson". 

Yes, the writer was certainly the devil. And some days Howard found it hard being Vince's fake boyfriend. And no, he was _not_ jealous – jealous of that bastard? Jealous that Vince thought he was clever and attractive with great hair? Ha. Howard laughed at the suggestion. He spat on the suggestion. The suggestion could fuck right off. 

*********************************************

Even Leroy told Howard to stop getting angry over the _Sugar Ape_ article, saying that any publicity was good publicity. This proved to be correct. Hipsters read the article and came along to make fun of The Mighty Boosh, but ended up having a good time, claiming they were doing so ironically. Stupid hipsters were confused by all the sarcasm and thought they were meant to like it. The very dim only looked at the pictures, and thought it looked well plastic. So overall they ended up with bigger crowds at their gigs.

Another good result of the article was that it led several underground music magazines to come to their gigs and write their own reviews. None of them were as bad as the _Sugar Ape_ article, and at least one was fairly positive. The adjective "cult" to describe The Boosh got bandied about a bit, and even "hip" once or twice. "Surreal" was another favourite, although Vince had studied Art in college and disputed they could be Surrealists. Howard was compared to Frank Zappa, and he thought perhaps he should listen to some of the guy's stuff and see what the fuss was about. 

Fans who had understood how cruel the _Sugar Ape_ article had been were indignant on their behalf, and sent Howard and Vince some very nice emails and letters – their first proper fan mail. Nearly all of it was for Vince, so to share the workload fairly, Howard replied on his behalf. He was getting good at forging Vince's handwriting in crayon, and put in a few spelling mistakes for the sake of verisimilitude (although Vince's spelling wasn't as bad as he made out – mostly things like forgetting how many Ts were in _commitment_ , and confusing _exiting_ with _exciting_ ). Vince got even more presents. 

At their next gig, Howard saw the tall scruffy young woman again, but she didn't approach him. He felt vaguely neglected by her. After the show he went looking for Vince, and saw him talking to the woman, with his arm around her in a comforting way. Howard thought he'd better leave them alone, then they disappeared into the unisex toilets together. When they came out some time later, he saw Vince had styled the woman's hair. Her long tangled brown hair now looked smooth and glossy with a pretty wave in it, but it was her smile that really made the difference to her appearance. 

Howard didn't say anything about it when he walked home with Vince. He realised he was starting to get jealous of Vince paying attention to anyone else's hair. Which was just unreasonable. Although Vince did swing both ways, and the woman was basically the female version of Howard, which meant _she_ might be Vince's type too ... Howard thought this was another day when it was hard being Vince's fake boyfriend, although he also thought that was mostly his own fault. 

As they walked back from the club together, Vince thought Howard seemed very moody, even though everything was going great. He took Howard's hand, and whispered something in his ear. Howard gave Vince a kiss and began walking faster, as if eager to get home for something. Most nights it was pretty bloody fantastic being Vince's fake boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on what we saw on the show, my head canon is that homosexuality and homosexual behaviour is more common in Vince and Howard's universe than ours, and more widely accepted (although even in our world, Hackney has a higher than average LGBT population). In my mind, Howard and Vince were never conflicted about being with each other because they were both men, but because of their friendship dynamic and other personal issues. I made it so that same sex marriage has been legal for much longer than in our world: Dave and Mike seem to have been married a fair while and it's apparently around the mid 2000s. The LGBT community has their own niche media and it's still mildly interesting for celebrities to come out as gay, so it's not completely mainstream; they may be a significant minority of the population. Homophobia exists, although Howard's comments imply it's rare and connected with the extreme right. 
> 
> I'm not sure if Dan Ashcroft really wrote all that stuff about Vince that Howard thought he did ... it sounds far too subtle for "Sugar Ape", but the ever-protective Howard might have picked up on something. Dave and Mike aren't based on Dave Brown and Mike Fielding, although if this was a film, they'd probably be in the roles of Dave and Mike. Elliot isn't a little person, by the way, but a petite young woman somewhat under five feet tall (a very good height indeed, as the Caterpillar said).


	4. Howince Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Vince are in a fake relationship. But are they really in a fake relationship?

**HOWINCE FOREVER**

_Love is a friendship set to music_ ~ Joseph Campbell

Howard Moon and Vince Noir are known on the underground scene as cult hit musical duo, The Mighty Boosh. Best friends, musical partners, boyfriends, lovers ... together they are Howince, and they will last forever.

  **Howard's musical influences:** John Coltrane, Weather Report, Captain Beefheart, Frank Zappa

 **Vince's musical influences:** Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Gary Numan, The Human League

 **Howard and Vince first met:** at school

 **Howard and Vince's first kiss:** was on a roof

 **Howard and Vince's first date:** went for a walk together

 **Howard and Vince's favourite thing to do as a couple:** "Whatever".

 **Howard's favourite thing about Vince:** "His courage – he isn't afraid to be his authentic self, and if you don't like it, he'll come at you like a Cockney bitch".

 **Vince's favourite thing about Howard:** "Makes a good breakfast".

 **Howard's pet names for Vince:** little man, titbox

 **Vince's pet names for Howard:** jazzy freak, big scruffy northerner

 **Howard thinks the sexiest thing about Vince is:** "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell".

 **Vince thinks the sexiest thing about Howard is:** "If I told you, you'd all want a bit of him, so bog off you nosy bastards". 

_**Catch Howard and Vince of The Mighty Boosh at The Velvet Onion, and other selected clubs and pubs around Hackney and Camden. Check The Velvet Onion website for further details.** _

************************************************

Howard noticed that the lurid pink and purple love hearts surrounding the title had been joined by some ghastly sort of sparkly effect. Leroy obviously agreed with Vince that everything was better with sparkles. Howard said that it seemed as if the website had been designed by a dim-witted thirteen-year-old with a My Little Pony obsession, but Leroy looked delighted, and said that was exactly the effect he had been trying to achieve.

The actual text wasn't too bad – Howard had suggested the quote, and it was his idea to mention their musical influences as a reminder that they _were_ a musical act, after all. Most of it was fine and didn't give that much away, although he blushed painfully at Vince's favourite thing about him. It was such a teasing thing to say, like a secret message only Howard would understand.

It was the photo gallery that made him squirm. The photos of them without shirts on were just embarrassing, and some of the comments that people had left about Vince made him so furious he felt like doing damage to the writers. They said obscene things about Vince that he would never dare say, and he was Vince's chosen fake boyfriend. Some of them made Vince sound like a cheap tart they could do anything they wanted to; he itched to give them a hiding for their impertinence.

One in particular he hated: _I don't know whether it's a girl or a boy, but whatever it is, I'd give it a good shagging_. Quite clearly Vince was neither a girl nor a boy – he was a grown man. The website even referred to Vince as Howard's boyfriend, and identified him by male pronouns. And calling Vince 'it' was so degrading, as if he was an object, not a person. It made his blood boil.

Vince told Howard not to worry about the comments. He said some were fake, written by Leroy or other friends, that Leroy removed all the worst ones, and to just ignore the idiots. When Howard kept stewing over it, Vince told him to get out his picture of the kittens in a barrel having a whale of a time, look at Philip, and cool down. Howard had to admit it did help – 156 euros well spent.

There were less comments about him, and most of them were pretty harmless. Some he didn't really get: _Howard Moon is my spirit animal_ , that was a mystery to him. He didn't want to know what _Fap fap fap_ meant. And he was pretty sure that comments like _Howard is a big sexy beast_ were fake, while _I love Howard's yummy man tits_ was almost definitely contributed by Vince as a tease. Howard hoped his parents never looked him up online.

**************************************************

Something had been bothering Howard a lot.

"Vince, what happens when all this is over?".

"When what's over?".

"You know, this. Us. This thing".

"Howard, what does it say here?", said Vince, pointing at the website Howard was fretting over yet again. "Howince _Forever_ ". He was wearing his Howince bracelet; in fact he never took it off.

"But Vince - ".

"Don't worry about it, Howard".

"When are you going to stop saying that, Vince?".

"When you stop worrying".

He kissed Howard again and again.

************************************************

Howard and Vince were cuddled up in bed together. This was one of Howard's favourite things about being with Vince – if they didn't have anything in particular to do, they would get into bed and just enjoy each other's company. Vince had his head on Howard's chest, and Howard had his arms around Vince. He kissed Vince in the corner of his mouth, which seemed so elusive and mocking.

"I love doing this", said Howard dreamily. "Being close to you like this".

"That reminds me", said Vince. "I saw Leroy yesterday, and he wants to take some more photos of us. He says there's not enough of us doing normal couple things, like going shopping and stuff. And he wants some of us hugging, and me sitting on your lap".

"Do you think Leroy is taking an unhealthy interest in our relationship?", asked Howard.

"Well he's our media manager, so it's his job to be unhealthily interested in us. One of his jobs anyway", said Vince, remembering the laser copy centre.

"What does Leroy think about our situation?", Howard asked curiously. "I mean, what did you tell him about us?".

"I said you were my boyfriend", replied Vince.

"Just that?"

"Yeah".

"When did you tell him?", asked Howard. "Before the _Cheekbone_ article came out, or after?".

"I suppose it was about ten years ago", said Vince. "Maybe closer to twelve? I can't really remember".

" _What_?", said Howard in shock. "You told Leroy I was your boyfriend at least a _decade_ ago? Why did you do that?".

"It's going to sound a bit mental", Vince admitted, "but after we met Leroy, I thought he fancied you, so I told him you were my boyfriend so he wouldn't come onto you. I can get pretty jealous, sometimes".

"But Leroy's never given the slightest hint that he fancied me", said Howard.

"'Course not, Leroy would never show interest in someone else's boyfriend, he's a good bloke".

"And what did Leroy say when you told him?", asked Howard.

"He tried to warn me off, actually", said Vince. "I think he thought you might break my heart".

"And did I?".

"Oh, only about a thousand times", said Vince with a sad smile. "How many times did I break yours?".

"One thousand and one precisely", said Howard seriously. "I kept count".

Vince kissed him, as if to make up for breaking Howard's heart so many times.

"Maybe we broke our own hearts", Vince said with a flash of insight.

"Vince, did you tell anyone else we were boyfriends before this?". 

"Yeah, I pretty much told everyone at the Zooniverse", said Vince sheepishly. "It didn't seem like a lie, because we sort of already _felt_ like boyfriends. I mean, we loved each other, and slept in the same room, and spent all our time together, and I fancied you like anything, and sometimes I thought you might fancy me too".

Howard's head spun.

"I just don't understand any of this", said Howard. "You wanted to be with me more than ten years ago, and you even told other people we were together, but you never told me how you felt?".

"I did Howard, I really did", said Vince earnestly. "I told you almost as soon as I realised myself, and I even asked Naboo for advice, but his advice must have been rubbish because you never seemed to know what I was telling you".

"Wait – _Naboo's_ known all this time too?".

"Yeah 'course, he was the zoo psychiatrist".

"You went to a _psychiatrist_ about me?", said Howard in a daze.

"Yeah, but like I said, Naboo was pretty rubbish. Or else I was too thick to know how to use his advice", said Vince fairly.

"Vince, I just don't know what to say", said Howard. "It feels like my entire reality has been upside down this whole time".

"Howard, do you hate me for telling people we were a couple? Not just now, but years ago?", asked Vince worriedly.

Vince so rarely seemed worried that Howard was touched.

"No Vince, it's just ... very strange", said Howard, giving him a little kiss on the nose. "I suppose this is what _Cheekbone_ meant when it said it had been an open secret for a long time that we were together".

"Well yeah, word gets around", said Vince. "And also ... we just sort of acted as if we were a couple, didn't we?".

"I suppose so", said Howard.

He began to feel he had been an almighty fool. It seemed as if he could have been with Vince long ago, if only he had listened to him properly and been willing to admit his own feelings. But that was easier said than done, back then.

"Vince, I'm sorry I put you through all this", said Howard. "It's hard to explain, but until a few months ago, I couldn't have been with you. I wasn't fit to be anyone's boyfriend, and I thought you deserved a lot better".

"And now I don't?", said Vince, attempting to smile.

"Well ... I'm _trying_ to be someone you deserve, but I'm still a bit of a mess".

"You just need your hair styled", said Vince, running his fingers through it. "And maybe some new clothes – you've lost a bit of weight, but you're still wearing the same clothes, so they all look baggy and shapeless. More than before even".

Howard laughed.

"I meant a mess on the _inside_ ".

"Everyone's a mess on their insides", said Vince. "Don't you remember the pictures in Biology class: guts and brains and blood all over the place?".

"I'm trying to tell you how much you mean to me, and you're going on about guts and blood!", said Howard with a smile, giving Vince a friendly little push.

"Does this mean we're not fake boyfriends any more?", asked Vince.

He still seemed worried, which was making Howard melt like warm Nutella. He'd never realised how vulnerable Vince could look; he nearly always seemed so tough and cool, the invincible Vince.

Howard held Vince close.

"Maybe we're real boyfriends now", he said thoughtfully.

"You could check again", said Vince cheekily. "See if I feel real or not".

"Mm, I'm not sure my earlier investigations went deep enough", said Howard with a wolfish smile. "I think I missed a spot ... just ... _here_ ".

***********************************************

When Leroy took the new photos of Howard and Vince together, he thought they seemed different than before. More ... settled, maybe? He supposed they were getting used to becoming better known.

It astounded him the way Vince and Howard had been together for years, but still seemed to be so mental about each other. Howard had been gazing at Vince in an almost awestruck way, which was deeply dippy, but made for some good photos. And Vince was dead soppy over Howard, always had been.

Howard was a bit weird, Leroy thought. Nothing against the bloke, although he'd heard some rumours ... Bit of an awkward, shambling, jazzy mess and all that, looked like a bleeding Geography teacher, but as long as he did right by Vince and made him happy, he was alright.

Leroy had to admit that Vince seemed to be off his tits on happiness right now, so it was all good.

*********************************************

Howard and Vince were in Vince's bed so they could be near the open window; the weather was getting warmer. They had started out just lying in each other's arms, but now they were snogging passionately. Howard didn't know how it had happened – one minute he had given Vince a shifty little glance to see if he was comfortable, the next Vince was kissing him. Long, slow, deep kisses that sent delicious shivers right down Howard's body.

He could feel that Vince was hard, pushing himself impatiently into Howard's hip as a sign he wanted to be taken care of. Howard slipped his hand down and held Vince the way he liked, moving his hand back and forth.

"You're fucking genius at this", Vince said almost fiercely. "I love your hands, they're one of the sexiest things about you. Been nuts over them for years".

Howard snuggled into Vince, and kissed his neck.

"Use both hands", Vince begged. "Oh yes use your fingers like that, that sends me mental".

Howard changed position slightly so he could get a better grip. Vince liked a nice firm hold, but still gentle, still tender.

"Yeah just there", Vince said with a little moan in his voice. "Don't stop doing that, seriously I don't care what happens, the fucking roof can collapse on us, keep going exactly like that".

Howard had fallen in love with so many Vinces. Sweet Vince. Generous Vince. Fun Vince. Adventurous Vince. Bossy Vince. Teasing Vince. Alluring Vince. Seductive Vince.

But right now Howard was in love with Horny Vince. His eyes looked bluer, his voice was deeper, he needed Howard so badly, he was so vulnerable. Howard kissed Vince's bare chest.

"For fuck's sake, will you two ballbags keep the fucking bedroom door _shut_ when you're doing that!". Naboo slammed the door hard.

They both ignored the interruption. Vince had said not to stop no matter what happened, so Howard didn't. The sky might fall and the world might crumble, but he wouldn't stop until Vince was satisfied. His hand kept moving in the same firm, gentle rhythm that was making Vince moan and thrust against him, his fingers kept teasing the place that was making Vince soaking wet.

He wanted to fall in love with more Vinces. The ones he knew were coming. Dirty Talking Vince. Begging For It Vince. Going Crazy With Lust Vince. Climaxing Vince. Sticky Vince. Contented Vince. Grateful Vince. Eager to Return the Favour Vince.

He kept falling harder and deeper in love with all the Vinces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howard assumes Vince's favourite thing about him for the website is a sexual innuendo based on eating breakfast off Howard on their first morning together as a couple. But in "Of Men and Muses", it is described how Vince realised he was starting to fall in love with Howard when he watched him make breakfast, and really thought about the qualities he exhibited in that simple act. He more or less told Naboo this in the sequel, "Satsumas Are Not the Only Fruit" (in which Vince consults Naboo as a psychiatrist). Most likely, Vince means the favourite thing quite sincerely and romantically, although knowing Vince, he is saying it to tease Howard as well.


	5. Meet the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter with Vince and Howard's bitter rivals opens old wounds, messes with their heads, and causes trouble between our boys. This chapter is almost a rewrite of "The Power of the Crimp", with both canon and head canon combined.

A month or so after the _Cheekbone_ article had come out, Howard was manning the counter at the Nabootique on a warm sleepy afternoon when he saw an unwelcome sight – it was Lance Dior and Harold Boom walking towards the shop. Howard knew Vince had seen them too, because he suddenly nipped upstairs, saying he'd forgotten something.

Howard had a pretty good idea what had made Vince run upstairs so quickly: Lance was wearing the exact same outfit; a pair of tight black drainpipes, a burgundy and gold patterned blouse, and a glittery gold headband. Howard was sure that Vince had gone upstairs to change, and probably to throw out those clothes, which he would never want to wear again.

Howard wondered if Lance had spied on the shop this morning to see what Vince was wearing, then gone out and bought the same clothes. Except Vince had made the blouse himself, so that meant Lance had to have sewn the blouse without a pattern, unless he made his own pattern, or stole the pattern from Vince. How exactly did the little shit manage it?, Howard wondered. And why the hell did he bother?

Lance and Harold entered the Nabootique in their usual arrogant and resentful way, as if it was actually _their_ workplace, and Howard and Vince had somehow usurped their positions. Howard had time to notice that Harold was wearing the same nutmeg cord trousers and short-sleeved mushroom shirt that Vince had bought for him (like a button mushroom, lined with soft pink).

Looking at the identically styled Harold, Howard had to admit that Vince was right – his clothes _were_ more flattering when they fit properly, and Harold's hair _did_ look better slightly longer. Howard wondered if Harold also had to go to dawn Jazzercise somewhere in order to copy him. Did he too cycle before breakfast every morning? Just how far did their insanity go?

"Hello Howard", cooed Lance, mincing up to the counter in an absurd parody of Vince's gait. "You're looking absolutely ravishing today".

He suddenly did a dramatic three-quarter turn so he could pout over his shoulder at Howard while wiggling his bum at him. This was apparently what Lance thought Vince's flirting looked like.

"Hello Lance, good day to you Harold, sir", said Howard formally. "May I assist you gentlemen in some way?".

"Oh Howard, you talk to us as if we're not even your _friends_ ", whined Lance. He leaned on the counter and played with his hair, looking up at Howard through his eyelashes.

Harold had the grace to look embarrassed, and made a gruff noise that may have been meant for both greeting and protest.

Howard should have given Lance short shrift and thrown them both out of the shop, but instead he nervously stammered something about them not being friends, but perhaps if circumstances had been different ... another time, another place ...

Lance gave an empty giggle, and ran his finger around his lips.

"We could be good friends right now if you wanted", he whispered suggestively. "Just say the word, Howard". He sucked his own fingertip.

Howard stammered uselessly, but no actual words came out.

The trouble was that Lance was making Howard's dick twitch. Howard hated that it was happening and he hated himself, but he wanted Vince so much that someone just pretending to be Vince was enough to get him aroused. Lance wasn't even a good copy of Vince – his make up was overdone, his hair was a wig, and his behaviour was ridiculous. Even so, it was enough.

Howard knew he had become that terrible male cliche: he had filet mignon at home, but was hungry for a hamburger. And not even a nice hamburger – a half-eaten one that had been thrown in a skip two days ago. Howard angrily wondered if he'd hump a scarecrow in a field if it was dressed like Vince. Unfortunately that image got him even hornier.

Lance seemed to have decided he'd messed with Howard long enough.

"I was hoping that Vince might come down so he could hear our announcement as well", he drawled, "but we really dropped by to see you, our dearest friends, in order to tell you that we're getting married later this year".

"Congratulations to you both", said Howard politely. "I'm sure Vince would join me in wishing you every happiness".

"That's ever so kind of you", breathed Lance. "Isn't it, Harold, my sweet?".

"Mm", said Harold noncommittally. He was looking around shiftily as if for means of escape. Howard wondered if that's what he looked like when he felt panicky. He wondered if that was what he was doing now, and Harold was copying him.

"We'll be announcing it to the press very shortly", said Lance, "but we wanted you and Vince to be the first to know".

Vince quietly walked into the shop, now dressed in white silk pyjama bottoms and a white cotton vest – possibly the only clothes he could find that he didn't mind if Lance copied.

"Actually I don't wish you any happiness, Lance", he said calmly. "And I don't think you'll get any, because your whole relationship with Harold is based on a lie. And you can get out, and stop trying to seduce my boyfriend".

"He's very possessive with you, isn't he Howard?", said Lance playfully. "I give Harold a lot of freedom – you know the old saying, if you truly love someone, set them free".

He gave Harold a little wink. Harold and Howard exchanged looks of mutual discomfort. Vince looked like a cat that wanted to spit.

"Anyway must fly", said Lance. "We've got tons of wedding stuff to organise. Bye Howard pet, and see you 'round, Vince".

"Afternoon, sirs", said Harold with a little smirk into his moustache, and began ushering Lance out of the shop, patting his buttocks as he did so to motion him ahead.

Something about it looked wrong to Howard, and he suddenly realised what it was.

"You're always touching Lance's bottom, Harold", said Howard with narrowed eyes, "yet you're supposed to be copying me".

Harold gave Howard a pitying look.

"Where do you think I got that move from, Howard?", Harold said with an even bigger smirk as he gave a derisive impression of Howard. " _After you Vince, I'm such a gentleman for letting you go ahead of me, I'll just give you a little help along there Vince_ ".

"Why, you - !". Howard was speechless with rage.

"Oh to see ourselves as others see us", said Harold condescendingly as he and Lance left the shop.

"I don't – I don't _do_ that – and I don't quote Burns at people!", Howard spluttered.

Howard looked at Vince in appeal, and to his horror, Vince gave a little nod of confirmation.

"You mean all this time ...?".

"Yeah for years", said Vince. "But I didn't mind, Howard, I liked it, and you really did mean to be gentlemanly and protective. And you obviously weren't doing it on purpose, because you didn't even realise".

For the second time that afternoon, Howard felt that he was a terrible male cliche: the man who gets a sneaky grope in under the guise of chivalry. And he hadn't even had the pleasure of being aware of what he was doing.

"You and Lance were looking very cosy there, Howard", said Vince, giving him a calculating look. "Maybe we should have them over for dinner some time and do a little partner swapping. Would you like that?".

"That's not even funny", Howard replied. "They are our enemies Vince, and it is not the British tradition to fraternise with the enemy. Did Elizabeth I welcome the Spanish Armada to sail up her Channel?".

"She might have enjoyed it if she had", said Vince.

"Did the Duke of Wellington invite Napoleon over to give him a blowjob?".

"He was French, so he would have been well kinky. The Duke missed an opportunity there".

"Did Churchill have phone sex with - ?".

"Okay, okay, I get it", said Vince. "I'm just saying, I can tell you're into Lance, and I'm letting you know, you can have him if you want".

"You don't mean that, Vince", Howard said. "You're reacting to what Lance said about being possessive, and he was flirting with me to cause trouble between us, and you're letting him win".

"Just remember Howard, you were Lance's first choice. He wanted you to be his partner, and he's only with Harold because he couldn't have you", Vince said. "If he flirts with you, it's because he still wants you".

"But I don't love Lance, I love you!", Howard burst out. "In fact, I don't even _like_ Lance".

"Might be more fun for you if you don't like Lance", Vince suggested. "You wouldn't have to worry about his feelings or whether you were hurting him. You could just shag his fucking brains out".

Howard's dick was throbbing by now. He didn't know why Vince was doing this, but it was driving him nuts. And the way he looked with his silk pyjamas slipping down his hips wasn't helping either.

"Look Howard, I just know there's something you want that you're not telling me about and I want to know what it is", said Vince. "Do you want Lance? Do you want Harold?".

"That's disgusting, Vince; being with Harold would be like having sex with myself!".

"You've had sex with yourself loads of times. And Harold looks a lot like that actor Simon McFarnaby, and you had a total crush on him. In fact, are we sure Simon and Harold aren't the same person – have they ever been in the same room together?".

"I did _not_ have a crush on Simon – I admired him very much, and I hung out with him hoping he'd offer me a role in his play. A role which he ended up giving to you, so guess who was Simon McFarnaby's little favourite there?".

"That play was stupid and I quit anyway", said Vince. "And if you ask me, Simon fancied you – the character of Julian was completely based on you. Julian was even meant to have a moustache, which I refused to grow".

"Sure it wasn't the moustache which refused to grow?".

"Whatever. Just tell me what you want. Lance, Harold, Simon? Do you want to fuck other guys in front of me? Do you want to watch me fuck other guys? Do you want to fuck women? Are you into young guys? Do you want to fuck a cute little nineteen-year-old?".

"Could you shut up about fucking for five minutes?", Howard said, beginning to feel as if he was legitimately losing it. The last one had come a bit too close to home; maybe Vince had been paying more attention to his arthouse cinema collection than he let on.

His dick was so hard that it hurt. And Vince must know he was hard, and he wasn't doing anything, wasn't even touching him. Just stood in front of him, barely dressed, driving him crazy. For the past month, Howard couldn't get even get a half-mast before Vince was there with his hands or his mouth or some other part of his body to take care of his needs.

Howard now realised that Vince had been spoiling him – he was like someone whose partner keeps them so stuffed full of food that they never get a chance to feel properly hungry. He was hungry now, painfully so. He also realised that he hadn't been nearly so generous with Vince – he only took care of Vince when Vince asked him, came to him and begged for relief.

He was a horrible boyfriend, Howard thought. He'd lusted after Vince's sworn enemy. He'd been feeling Vince up for years on the sly, and not offering him anything else. He'd made Vince hang around for ten years or more to be with him, so Vince wasted the best years of his life waiting for Howard to stop being such a useless mess. And on top of all that, he was a selfish lover, who took and took and took, and only gave to Vince when he was asked.

He was an absolute pig of a man, and now he was actually angry with Vince, just because he was horny. Because like other hunger, going unfulfilled was putting him in a terrible temper. And feeling like a horrible boyfriend was putting him in a bad mood as well.

"You like my arse, don't you?", Vince said quietly. He was standing very close to Howard, but not touching him, and Howard could see his nipples showing through the thin white vest.

"Yes, for a long time", Howard said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"It's okay, Howard; I kind of always knew that, and I liked you liking it", said Vince. "Sometimes I even showed it off a bit in front of you. I liked making you look at me".

"Why are you saying these things?", asked Howard unhappily.

"I'm saying maybe I should go to Boots and get the stuff ready. For when you want it".

"Won't it look suspicious to suddenly go to Boots when we're meant to have been together for ages?".

"No, some couples take years before they want to go to Boots. Some couples never go to Boots".

"Never? What do they do instead?".

"Same kind of stuff we're doing now", said Vince. "Howard, if you never want Boots, I'm okay with that. I'm happy with whatever. But I get the feeling you might be a Boots kind of bloke, don't you think?".

"I don't know", said Howard. He didn't know anything. He didn't think his brain was working any more, he was thinking with something else. He unconsciously rubbed his own dick.

"I'm just saying, I want you to be happy. And I want you to have whatever it is you want, and aren't telling me about. So if you want to fuck Lance, you can. I'll even go to Boots for you".

"Don't offer me that. Don't offer me things that would hurt you, Vince", Howard said in distress.

"Maybe I want to be hurt", Vince said.

Howard suddenly thumped his fist down on the counter: a supply teacher who had finally lost his temper with an unruly class and banged on the desk to restore order.

"I've just about had enough of this, Vince", he said. "You've been tormenting me and driving me insane and I don't even know why, but it's going to stop _now_ ".

"What do you want from me, Howard?", Vince asked quietly.

"I want you to lock up the shop. I want you to get upstairs and take those clothes off, and if you don't, I'll drag you upstairs and rip them off myself".

"And then what?".

"Then I'm going to throw you on the bed and lie on top of you and – and – get _off_ on you".

"Okay, Howard", Vince said meekly.

He gave Howard an appraising look, as if he had received a glimmer of the answer he had been seeking.

*************************************************

Half an hour later, Howard was lying in Vince's arms, feeling much more at peace with the world. He reflected that he had been more selfish in bed than ever – he'd been quite rough with Vince and not considerate at all; he'd even pulled on his hair when he came, panting out that Vince was too sexy for his own good. Vince didn't seem to mind, though.

Howard hadn't lasted more than a few minutes on top of Vince, and he realised that one of the reasons Vince had been keeping him constantly satiated was so he could last longer. He knew a month ago he wouldn't have even made it upstairs – he would have come in his pants just seeing Vince in his white silk pyjamas.

Afterwards he had given Vince a leisurely sucking off, getting in before Vince could even hint for it. You had to be quick if you wanted to anticipate Vince's needs – he was so open in expressing them. You pretty much had to be psychic.

They had talked for a bit after that, Vince telling Howard that it was okay for him to be attracted to someone else – even someone Vince hated.

"He's obviously just your type", Vince reassured him.

Howard could see that Vince was drawing a parallel between Howard's attraction to Lance, and Vince's attraction to the devil writer. He didn't like it, but he had to admit it was a fair comparison. Howard could no longer feel superior and ill-treated over that. He probably never should have.

"I know you don't hate Lance and Harold like I do", Vince said. "Without me, you could probably have been friends with them, so I'm sorry about that".

"Without you, Lance and Harold wouldn't even exist", Howard pointed out.

Vince had let Howard know he wasn't a horrible boyfriend or a pig of a man – he was just a normal person, and he was just a man.

"You expect too much from yourself, Howard", Vince had told him. "You always think you have to try harder at everything and be the best possible, but it's too much pressure on you all the time. Just be a bit kinder to yourself, okay?".

Howard had kissed Vince, knowing that he was giving him wise advice. He immediately pledged to try harder at not trying so hard. He didn't notice the problem with that.

"I'm sorry about Lance and Harold announcing their wedding", he consoled Vince. "I know they sort of won this round, but maybe now we can just relax and enjoy being together".

"Oh that's okay", said Vince. "When I heard what Lance was telling you, I sent Leroy a text telling him to announce _our_ wedding on the website".

" _What_?".

"We're getting married – congratulations, darling", Vince said, giving Howard a kiss.


	6. Adamant (Not the Highwayman Dude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Vince's text to Leroy leads to stress, distress, heartache, sore feet, and potential peril ... oh yeah, and some other stuff too. Posting early due to Christmas, and I'll just be posting once a week over the Christmas and New Year period. Merry Christmas!

"What did you say?", Howard asked faintly.

"I said we're getting married".

"This is a joke, isn't it? You're pranking me by getting me all worried about something, then at the end you'll say it was just a joke. That's it, isn't it, Vince?".

"No, have a look at the website", said Vince, bringing it up on his phone and showing Howard.

Leroy had plastered an enormous message in pink scrolled lettering at the top of the page saying that Vince and Howard were announcing their engagement, with further details to come soon. He had used some revolting effect where it looked as if the screen was constantly snowing white doves and gold wedding bells. It hurt Howard's eyes. Mind you, pretty much everything was hurting right now.

"You can't do this, Vince", said Howard. "A fake relationship was one thing, but now we're having a fake marriage?".

"But the fake relationship turned out to be real", Vince pointed out. "Maybe the marriage will too".

" _Maybe_? That's the best you can do?".

"Don't worry, How-".

"No, do _not_ tell me not to worry about this!", snapped Howard. "You can't keep doing that forever."

"But Howard -".

"I can't believe you would do this, Vince", Howard said. "What kind of foundation for marriage is wanting to get back at Lance and Harold?".

"Howard, just one question. Do you love me?".

Howard ignored him. He was furious that Vince thought he could wheedle him into getting married exactly the same way he had convinced him to try being fake boyfriends.

"You never even _asked_ me", Howard said. "All my life I've been dreaming of getting married, of asking someone to marry me, or them asking me, and now all I get is a message on our website that the wedding has been announced".

"Oh really, you've been dreaming of getting married all your life?", said Vince sceptically. "What, were you sticking pictures of table settings into your wedding scrapbook at the age of twelve? Playing dress ups in a tiny tuxedo when you were six?".

"No, it was just something I always wanted".

"So this thing you always wanted – big church affair was it? Small and intimate? Did you even think about getting married _once_ , Howard? Because you never mentioned it. Ever".

"I just always thought that one day I would get down on one knee and ask someone to marry me, or it would happen the other way around, and it would be romantic and magical, and I'm not getting anything like that!".

"Who did you imagine you were going to marry, then?", asked an unconvinced Vince.

"Well ... I suppose for the past few months it was you, Vince".

"Then today's your lucky day, you stupid berk, because you _are_ getting married to me!".

"Getting called a stupid berk isn't romantic and magical", Howard said. "You know, when I sent you to seduce a panda, you organised flowers, a candlelit dinner, and a string quartet, but all I get is a text to Leroy!".

"I'm not sure there was an actual string quartet, Howard", Vince said.

"Well I remember there being one, and you basically put more effort into a panda breeding program than you have into asking me to marry you, so that makes me feel pretty bloody special, doesn't it!", said Howard as he got out of bed and dressed.

"You know, now I think of it, that whole panda thing was quite dangerous", said Vince. "You could have got me seriously injured, Howard".

"Right now that thought doesn't really bother me too much", said Howard. "I'm going out, Vince. I need to be alone for a while".

"But Howard - ".

It was too late. Howard had gone.

***********************************************

Howard had been walking around for ages, and now he knew why, in films, whenever the hero heads off to moodily slope around the lonely mean streets of wherever it is, pulling the collar of his coat more firmly around him, and perhaps there's some fog swirling about in a mysterious sort of way, they turn it into a forty second montage with some thoughtful music over it, maybe a few quiet footsteps and a spot of sad whistling in there, before they skip forward to some action.

Because if you actually do slope around the mean streets of Dalston by yourself while in a foul mood, it gets pretty boring. In fact it's quite boring right from the start, and Howard had been in too much of a temper to find his shoes and put them on, so he was just wearing the flip-flops he kept near the door. His feet hurt from walking, and the flip-flop noise of his footwear was giving him the shits.

And it's hard to feel heroic and moody wearing nutmeg cords, a pink-lined mushroom shirt and flip-flops. And there wasn't any mysterious fog, it was a warm afternoon in spring, and the streets weren't empty, but filled with people doing their shopping or going for coffee, or just wandering around enjoying themselves. Although the streets were nonetheless still very lonely for Howard.

Howard suddenly realised he wasn't in that moody mysterious type of film, but in the sort where the hero stupidly runs out on his girlfriend, or in this case, his fiance, after a very silly argument he already regrets, and then has to see everyone else in couples. Because it truly seemed as if the entire population of Dalston was made up of couples holding hands while they shopped, or sitting together having coffee looking into each other's eyes, or kissing while they meandered around the pavements.

(There's a reason why this happens, but I can never remember why exactly or what the phenomenon is called. The Universe is a Complete and Utter Bastard Principle, or something like that, and obviously invented to make us feel as crappy as possible, which I'm sure does us a lot of good in the long run.)

Howard wondered if he was running away because he was scared, the way he used to. He decided he wasn't – he wasn't frightened, he was angry, and he'd gone off to be by himself, because if he'd stayed, he might have said or done something that he'd regret later. He needed time to think.

Howard thought deeply as he walked – it wasn't all moaning about his flip-flops and silently cursing the loving couples who kept bumping into him because they were too busy snogging to look where they were going.

He knew that if he refused to marry Vince, their relationship would probably be over. Their friendship might even be over, and they could no longer be the The Mighty Boosh. They would be the unsuccessful version of Fleetwood Mac after all. One of them would have to move out of the flat, and Howard realised it would be him, because it had been Vince who had originally organised for them to live in Naboo's spare room. Howard would probably have to quit work at the Nabootique and find another job. They were all pretty miserable thoughts.

There was only one thing about it that wasn't miserable. He was deeply unhappy, but he wasn't anxious. He didn't fear the future, even if it was to be a heartbroken, failure-ridden, friendless, jobless, homeless future. Just one month as Vince Noir's fake/real boyfriend, and he had become a little stronger, a little wiser. If forced to, he could go on without Vince, because there was a little bit of Vince inside him now.

He knew Vince would snigger over that statement if he heard it, but he didn't care. A little of Vince's sunshine magic had got into his soul, and he could truthfully say it was a far, far better thing to have loved and lost Vince than never loved him at all. That was something he could actually feel good about, even smile about. He wondered if thinking about Vince would always make him smile, just a little bit. He suspected it would. Even if he was smiling through tears, it was still smiling.

Howard looked at his watch and saw it wasn't far off closing time at the shops. He decided he'd better start shopping for his new future before they shut, because he was going to need one or two things. Vince didn't think Howard knew how to shop, but he had spent a month observing a shopping expert, and gone shopping tons of times with Vince – Leroy had even taken photos to prove it. He thought he would be able to manage it on his own now.

***************************************************

When Howard got home he walked upstairs and into the living room to find that Vince had closed the curtains and filled the room with dozens and dozens of lighted candles. This concerned Howard, because he didn't know what kind of fire insurance Naboo had, or whether shamans knew about fire insurance, or relied on magic potions to fix all their problems. The living room had a hazardous glow to it.

He also saw that Vince had got a little table and two chairs from the store room in the Nabootique, and lugged them upstairs somehow. Maybe Bollo had helped him. There were, alarmingly, more candles on the table, and a clean jam jar filled with lilacs that looked as if Vince might have stolen them from a local park. Howard had a moment of profound gratitude that Vince hadn't strewn rose petals everywhere, as they are dangerous and slippery, and a real bitch to hoover up.

"Oh Howard, genius, you're home", said Vince, popping his head around the corner from the kitchen. "Sit down, and I'll be out in a minute".

Howard sat at the table, wondering what Vince was playing at now. He didn't have to wait long to find out, because Vince came out wearing a frilly apron over his clothes and carrying two plates of food.

"There you go Howard", said Vince proudly, plonking the plates down. "I know it's not much, but it's the best I could manage for a candlelit dinner. Are there enough candles?".

"Thanks Vince, there's more than enough candles. And the jam on toast looks delicious".

"I'm pretty sure jam is trendy again now", said Vince. "And it's one of the few things I can cook really well, because I never burn toast. I couldn't get a string quartet, but I've put on a Suzi Quatro album I borrowed from Bollo. It's pretty good".

"Thank you, Vince. I can see that you've gone to a lot of trouble".

"That's okay Howard. We don't have any champagne, but I've got a couple of cans of premixed pink flirtini here". Vince poured them both a glass of canned pink flirtini. "What do you think of it?".

Howard took a sip, then decided what the hell, and had a big gulp of it. Walking around for ages is thirsty work.

"It's like drinking a liquid Barbie doll", he said. "You know, the one with a fluffy pink dress".

"Princess Barbie? Yeah brilliant, it does taste a bit like that", said Vince. "Only, it's got a real kick after it goes down".

"Like a Princess Stripper Barbie?", suggested Howard. "Or Paint Stripper Barbie?".

Howard was possibly getting a little tipsy already. He had several more gulps. Shit it was horrible stuff.

"Anyway, Howard, there's something I need to ask you", said Vince.

Howard had a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach, and it wasn't all caused by canned flirtini and jam on toast. It sunk further when Vince knelt down on the floor in front of him. Vince didn't get down on one knee, but on both of them, holding onto Howard's thighs to steady himself.

"I wrote it all down, Howard, but there was a bit of an accident with a candle, and the paper it was written on got burned up", said Vince.

Howard felt very worried knowing there had already been an accidental fire, and that was before alcohol got involved.

"So I'm just going to speak from my heart", Vince continued.

He took a deep breath, and Howard patted him on the head to encourage him. Best to just get this over with.

"Please, please, please marry me Howard", said Vince in a rush. "I love you and I can't live without you and if you think about it we're pretty much already married and we should have been married years ago so waiting any more would just be a big stupid waste of time and I know I didn't do it properly and everything got messed up but I really do want to be married to you and you want to be married to me too, you already said so, so let's just do it. Get married I mean, I wasn't asking for a bumming there, but if you were offering I probably wouldn't say no, except we'd have to go to Boots first but they won't shut for another hour so the option's still open. Anyway back to the first thought, sorry I got distracted thinking about bumming, please please please marry me otherwise I don't know what I'll do".

Vince buried his head in Howard's lap and held onto him in supplication. Howard stroked his hair in a kindly manner.

"Get up, Vince", Howard said gently. "Come on, off the floor, and sit on your chair again".

Vince looked a bit worried, but did so.

"That was a rubbish proposal", Howard said.

Vince looked even more worried.

"So I'd better show you how it's done", Howard added, finishing off the rest of his flirtini for courage.

Howard got down on one knee, and held Vince's hand, looking into his eyes. Howard didn't think he'd ever seen Vince's eyes look so beautiful. He lightly kissed Vince's hand.

"Vince, I've always loved you; for many years I've been _in_ love with you; and since the night you first kissed me I've wanted you: heart, body, mind, and soul. Life with you has been filled with magic and adventure, and I want us to continue that adventure together. Vince Noir, my best friend and dearest companion, will you do me the honour of giving me your hand in marriage and become my husband?".

Please imagine that Vince gave his assent in the most enthusiastic and loving way possible, and their lips met many times, and they didn't have to worry about falling off the roof. Howard took a little box out of the pocket of his nutmeg cords, and showed Vince the diamond engagement ring he had bought him that afternoon. He put the ring on Vince's third finger, the one which supposedly leads to the heart. It fit perfectly, so Howard really had learned a lot about jewellery shopping in the past month. It's almost as if he had been paying attention with just this occasion in mind.

Vince kissed Howard, thinking that he loved Howard tasting of flirtini. Howard kissed him back, thinking that Vince really should have taken his frilly apron off to be proposed to. And maybe now some of the candles could be blown out before something caught fire. Howard kissed Vince again before getting off the floor, thinking he must be getting old because his knees were killing him.

"You know, Vince, an old name for a diamond is an _adamant_ ".

"Adam Ant? That's genius, Howard. Do you think I could get married dressed as Adam Ant?".

"If you want. But _adamant_ means unbreakable, and that's how strong I think you are, and it means the connection between us will never be broken".

"That makes sense, because Adam Ant is very strong. He's been through a lot, and he's still touring. I actually saw him shopping in Camden not that long ago – maybe that was a sign".

"What, seeing Adam Ant was a sign you were getting a diamond?".

"No, seeing him in Camden was a sign he lived around here".

"I got a certificate for the diamond too, to show it's been ethically sourced", said Howard, displaying it.

"Aren't all diamonds ethnically sourced? They're all from foreign countries".

"No Vince, _ethically_. It's an Australian diamond".

"Do they have ethics in Australia? I thought it was just snakes and spiders and killer roos ... Are you going to wear a ring, Howard?", asked Vince.

"Well I don't usually accessorise, Vince. There's a simple truth to me. But there's a complementary ring, if you'd like to put it on my finger". Howard's ring was more rugged and manly than Vince's, with smaller diamonds around it.

Afterwards, Howard and Vince held hands on the sofa (Howard made Vince take off his frilly apron and blew all the candles out first), and Howard asked Vince if he was happy to be engaged.

"Off my tits on happiness, Howard".

"Me too".

************************************************

Later that night, Vince and Howard were celebrating their engagement by having a bath together, in the flat's old Victorian-era bath tub. The Victorians had their faults – the child labour, the slums, the poison wallpaper, everyone being whacked off their face on opiates all the time. But they didn't piss about when they made baths. This one was designed so you could wash seven children, a large dog, and maybe a couple of servants all at the same time, so there was plenty of room for both Howard and Vince.

Howard lay back in the bath with Vince facing him. They had opened another can of flirtini to share, and Howard had allowed Vince to put a couple of candles in the bathroom since water doesn't catch fire very easily.

If you're going to fool around in a big Victorian bath, I recommend doing it at the start before the water goes cold. Howard and Vince seemed to be of the same mind. There was some definite fooling going on beneath the water.

"Maybe it's the warm flirtini talking, but you have dreamy eyes", said Howard, leaning over to kiss Vince.

"Dreamy eyes? Did you get all your chat up lines from the 1950s?", asked Vince.

"You're a dreamboat", Howard said, going all fuzzy and fifties with flirtini.

"You have sweet little shrimp eyes", said Vince tenderly, holding a part of Howard that wasn't shrimpy in the least.

"I love you, little man".

"I love you, jazzy freak".

And then there was no more talking for a while, although they expressed themselves fairly vocally, their voices, like their hands, in unison towards the end.

*************************************************

Vince and Howard were still in the bath, lying close together in the tepid water with Vince between Howard's legs, his head on Howard's chest. They felt very content.

"Your proposal was genius, Howard", said Vince. "Did you practice it at all?".

"Mm, maybe a few times", admitted Howard.

"I didn't practice mine".

"Shocker", said Howard drily.

"Did I make the evening romantic and magical enough for you, Howard?".

"Yes, except I still think the panda got a slightly better deal".

"Well Howard, we had a bigger budget back then. I had to fix this up out of stuff from around the flat".

"True – and the panda didn't get engaged to you, so I'm probably ahead overall".

"So Howard, what made you change your mind about marrying me?", asked Vince curiously.

"I had a really deep think when I was out on my own, and I realised I didn't need you, Vince".

"That makes no sense".

"Well, it seemed to me that if I didn't need you, then I only loved and wanted you", explained Howard. "And I realised that if I didn't need you, it was because you'd made me strong enough not to need you, and that made me love and want you even more".

"You're doing my head in", Vince said. "But Howard, I really _do_ need you. I meant it when I said I can't live without you".

"Nonsense, you're the bravest, toughest man in the world", said Howard, leaning down to kiss him.

"That's only because I've got you", said Vince, turning around and kissing back.

"Naboo and Bollo are probably going to be home soon", said Howard regretfully, getting in as many kisses as he could.

"Nah, I paid them fifty euros to get out of the flat for the night – told them I was planning a romantic evening with you".

"What do you think they'll say about us getting engaged?", asked Howard.

"Same as usual. Naboo will call us a pair of ballbags, and Bollo will say he's got a bad feeling about it, then Naboo will tell us off for making the bathroom smell of cum and say we're disgusting".

Vince twisted his engagement ring around to admire the way the diamond sparkled in the candlelight.

"Careful you don't lose your ring in the bath", cautioned Howard. "I haven't insured them yet".

"Did I ever tell you about the time I lost all my underwear in the sea?", asked Vince. "Bryan Ferry took me for a holiday in Cornwall and we rented a summer cottage made entirely from seashells. I didn't have any swimming things, so Bryan Ferry told me it would be okay to just swim in my pants".

"Why do all your stories about Bryan Ferry sound as if they're going somewhere a bit wrong?", wondered Howard.

"So I went swimming in my pants – you know I'm a good swimmer, from learning to swim in the river in the forest. Jahooli the leopard taught me."

"Naturally", said Howard.

"But on the very first day, a shark swam up to me, and I thought he wanted to make friends, but he chewed my pants off me and I had to swim naked for the rest of the day".

"Of course, the pants-eating sharks of Cornwall. David Attenborough did a series on them", said Howard sarcastically.

"And then the next day the same thing happened, and the next, and the next. Until by the end of the holiday I had no pants left and Bryan Ferry said I'd have to go without pants until he could get to Marks & Spencer".

"They didn't sell pants in Cornwall?".

"Not where we were. But I wonder, do you think sharks only attack people so they can take their pants, but then sometimes they get a bit carried away? Because we could stop shark attacks by just swimming naked".

"A major breakthrough in marine science".

"Except ... I just remembered, it wasn't really a shark, my pants got pulled off by the waves. But it felt like a shark was doing it, and I did see a shark, but it was further out. I was only in the shallow water where Bryan Ferry could keep an eye on me while he sunbathed".

"Oh, this marriage is just going to fly by", groaned Howard in mock despair.

But he was secretly smiling into his moustache. Something about Vince would always make him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As well as being my favourite spring flowers, lilacs symbolise first love. 
> 
> Howard and Vince's rings presumably contain Argyle diamonds – these can often be pink or yellow, but I decided that would clash with too many of Vince's outfits. Howard seems slightly ahead of his time wearing an engagement ring made for a man, but I presume that in a world with same-sex marriage, engagement rings for men, and engagement ring sets for couples, would have become fashionable much earlier. 
> 
> Adam Ant has suffered a lot due to illness and medication side-effects, but he is indeed still touring like a trouper. He does live in Camden, and it isn't at all implausible that Vince might have seen him out and about. In real life, Adam Ant is a friend of Noel, and Vince seems to admire him too.


	7. Rumours (Not the Fleetwood Mac Album)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All his life, Howard has been dogged by persistent rumours. It's time we got to the bottom of them, and learn the truth about his shady past. This chapter is full of canon-typical (and actually canon) sexual jokes and situations. Posting early because of New Year, and just one post this week because of the new year period. Have a very happy New Year, and see you in 2019!

It proved more embarrassing to tell Naboo and Bollo they were engaged than Vince and Howard had anticipated. Bollo immediately burst into tears, sobbing brokenly as if the terrible thing he had always predicted had finally happened.

"No, no, not the Horrid – Vince is precious flower, too delicate to marry Horrid!", he wailed.

"Now come on Bollo, I'm not that fragile", said Vince, patting his friend on the back.

"I promise I'll take good care of Vince", said Howard placatingly, which earned a glare from Bollo.

"The Horrid is too big for Vince, he will hurt Vince!", said Bollo accusingly.

"Howard? He's just a big squishy teddy bear. Aren't you, Howard?", Vince said.

"Uh yeah that's right. "I'm big but harmless, like a ... er, haystack", said Howard, who couldn't think of anything big but harmless off the top of his head.

The very embarrassing part for Howard was when Bollo pointed at Howard's groin to allow no room for doubt exactly he meant.

Vince snickered, but said, "Oh that – that's just eight pairs of socks, you don't have to worry about that, Bollo".

For a horrified moment, Howard thought Bollo was going to demand that he remove his clothing so he could be measured and inspected, but Bollo allowed himself to be mollified with many soothing pats from Vince, although he continued to eye Howard with great distrust.

Howard had had a few concerns along the same lines, and thought that Bollo might have a point, although Vince whispered to Howard, "He's a right laugh; he doesn't realise I'm looking forward to it".

Naboo had given Vince a look of unutterable smugness, and said, "So you finally caught him, yeah?".

Vince looked uncomfortable.

"You know, this would have all happened much sooner if you'd followed my advice from the start", Naboo continued.

Vince gave a fixed smile and said he and Howard had to meet Leroy, although they didn't need to leave for another half hour at least.

Naboo the Enigma had reserved his most enigmatic expression for Howard. What it meant nobody knew – Howard sometimes suspected it just meant Naboo had no idea what to say, but Howard copped it more often than anyone else.

As they left early together, Howard wondered what Naboo's relationship advice to Vince had been. Vince had said that his advice was useless, which surprised Howard – he had seen Naboo for anger management counselling , and hadn't found him useless at all: the picture of the two kittens in a barrel having a whale of a time was still a very effective technique in controlling his temper. But he didn't ask, because a psychiatric session is confidential, after all. At least he had cleaned the bath this morning, so Naboo wouldn't tell them off again.

***************************************************

Howard and Vince met Leroy in the cafe opposite The Velvet Onion during Leroy's mid-morning break from the laser copy centre so they could discuss what they wanted the website to say about their upcoming nuptials.

They had picked the first of September as their wedding date, and told Leroy he could update the message to let fans know that. Howard insisted Leroy tone down the colour and font of the announcement, and remove the revolting white doves and gold wedding bells effect that had hurt his eyes. He told Leroy it would give people migraines.

"So why the first of September?", asked Leroy, writing it down.

"It's the date Vince and I first met", said Howard, flushing.

"Is it really, Howard?", Vince said in surprise. "How do you remember things like that?".

"What – you mean the months of the year and numbers?", said Howard grumpily. Then he softened, and said, "Because it was the most important day of my life, you little titbox".

"Mine too", agreed Vince. "It was first day I went to school after living in the forest, and the first day I wore proper clothes, and shoes. I went a bit mental about clothes after that".

"Luckily you got over that phase", said Howard, who had watched Vince take over an hour to get ready to see Leroy, an old friend who didn't care what Vince looked like unless he was snapping photos of him for the website.

Vince insisted to Leroy that they didn't want any press involvement in their wedding. He had already told Howard that their wedding had nothing to do with Lance and Harold, and he didn't want to compete with them in any way. This was something that was just for them, and for their fans, who had been so supportive of their relationship. The whole trying to get one over Lance thing was something he said he now felt ashamed of, although it had brought he and Howard together, so he couldn't say he regretted it.

**************************************************

However, when Vince was contacted by _Hey There, Hackney!_ about his wedding to Howard, he agreed to an interview immediately. The magazine staff had seen the announcement on the website, so Vince said that made them fans, and they deserved to be part of it. He wouldn't chase after the media, but if they chose to chase after him, that was a different story, wasn't it?

Howard wasn't convinced it _was_ a different story, and thought it seemed remarkably like the original story where Vince wanted to get all the attention and take it away from Lance and Harold.

He grumbled to Vince about it as they walked to the _Hey There, Hackney!_ offices for their interview.

"I mean what happened to you, Vince? You only used to appear in magazines so exclusive that they were delivered by ninjas, even _Heat_ was shameful. Now you're going to be in some trashy gossip mag filled with washed up reality television contestants".

"It's not that bad", said Vince. "Stephen Fry was in it".

"Stephen Fry was in _Hey There, Hackney!_ , really? When?".

"Years ago when he lived in Dalston with Hugh Laurie and they were just starting out. The magazine told me".

Howard had to admit that _Hey There, Hackney!_ hadn't ruined Stephen Fry's career, and he couldn't say Stephen Fry was trashy or washed up. And when they got there, the magazine offices were quite luxurious and the journalist interviewing them couldn't have been nicer.

Her name was Felicity, and she was a plump attractive woman in her forties with a motherly aura that suggested she was there, not to badger Howard and Vince with questions, but just had to find out all about them because they were extremely fascinating people, and simply had to record them talking because they had such lovely voices.

"You two are so adorable", she beamed at them as she brought them two cups of tea herself, not even foisting the job onto some lowly assistant. That's how kind and motherly she was. "Our readers can't get enough of hearing about Howard and Vince, and The Mighty Boosh. What an original name, however did you choose it?".

"Vince picked it", said Howard.

"Our friend Naboo suggested the name", said Vince. "I dunno why. Maybe _Mighty_ because that's strong, and then _Boosh_ like 'bush', so it's a small tree, but it's really strong, yeah? But with two Os, like 'ooh they're good'?".

Felicity wanted to hear all about Naboo, and how they knew him from the Zooniverse, and how Vince and Howard met at school, which she said was about the cutest thing she had ever heard.

"It's almost as if you're childhood sweethearts, isn't it?", she said dewily. "Howard, when would you say you first fell in love with Vince?".

"At fourteen", said Howard rather wildly, before quickly adding, "but it was just an attraction, we weren't properly in love at such a young age. Er, we didn't, you know, _do_ anything".

"How sweet", said Felicity. "And Vince, when did you fall in love with Howard?".

"When I was eleven", said Vince casually.

"Goodness, that's very young to be in love", Felicity said. "Was it a sort of puppy love?".

"No I was proper in love with him", said Vince. "I know because my foster-father Bryan Ferry told me I was in love with Howard, and that one day I would be old enough to understand it for myself".

Howard shot Vince a quietly furious and incredulous look. Bloody interfering Bryan Ferry – why couldn't he have kept his trap shut? And why did Vince have to mention this now?

Felicity wanted to know all about Bryan Ferry, and how he had brought up Vince in the forest in between tour dates, and how Vince was babysat by Jahooli the leopard. She laughed prettily over Vince calling himself 'Mowgli in flares'.

"And now you're getting married, how absolutely gorgeous", said Felicity. "It's like it was just meant to be. I don't suppose either of you have been married before?".

"Howard's been engaged before", said Vince helpfully. "To a bloke named Gregg. That's Gregg with two Gs on the end".

Howard looked as if he was having some sort of silent fit over this piece of indiscretion.

"Oh really? You didn't _jilt_ Gregg, did you Howard?", said Felicity in a kittenish tone, as if it would have been very naughty but quite forgivable if Howard had done so.

"Uh no ... the relationship didn't really have a future", said Howard. "Gregg was from the West Country, and he was a bit ... funny, and a lot older than me".

"So how did you break it off with funny old West Country Gregg?", asked Felicity sympathetically.

"I didn't really, I sort of got away ... er, escaped ... I mean, I just left without saying anything", said Howard.

"I think you must be a bit of a heartbreaker, Howard", said Felicity with playful finger wag. "I do hope you won't break Vince's heart as well".

"We already broke each other's hearts", said Vince. "Except really we broke our own hearts".

"That's such a wise and deep sentiment, Vince", said Felicity admiringly. "I hope Howard appreciates you properly, you're such a darling".

Vince grinned at Felicity; he was terrifically bored by now and wished she'd end the interview. Perhaps Felicity picked up on this, or she just had enough material, because she thanked them very nicely and sent them off to have their picture taken in the photographic studio.

Howard had plenty to say to Vince about the interview, and lived in the usual dread of the article coming out in the magazine. But when it did, it wasn't nearly as bad as he feared. The headline was the rather nauseating "Future Sailors Set Course for a Future of Marriage on the Sea of Love", and the accompanying photo made Vince look simple-minded, and Howard like some sort of sexual predator, but the actual article was okay.

It said that Vince Noir and Howard Moon from The Mighty Boosh, a local hip cult surreal underground musical phenomenon, were announcing their September wedding, having fallen in love while still at school and become childhood sweethearts. The name of their band had been chosen because Vince was born in a forest, and was an allusion to the works of Bryan Ferry, a huge influence on their music. Howard was from the West Country, and had had the pick of any man he liked, but while a renowned playboy, had returned to his first and only true love, Vince.

In other words, it was mostly lies, half-truths, and misinformation, but _Hey There, Hackney!_ was a gossip magazine, and Howard was just grateful it hadn't been a lot worse. It was Vince who was angry over it, and said he couldn't believe how Felicity had twisted their words around to mean something completely different.

"It's almost as if she wasn't really interested in us at all", he said resentfully.

************************************************

The real fallout from _Hey There, Hackney!_ only hit them the following week, when the next issue of the magazine came out. There was an article entitled "The Secret Life and Loves of Howard Moon", with a large photo of Howard looking sneaky and scheming – obviously one of the photos taken the first time which they hadn't used immediately.

Howard assumed that this was what Vince called his "shifty look". He knew that Vince found it irresistibly sexy, and would jump him whenever he caught Howard with that expression on his face, no matter how fleetingly. Howard thought he really did look like a dodgy bastard, or pretty much anyone who is up to no good. He was shocked at how untrustworthy he appeared, and wondered what on earth Vince found attractive about it.

However, the photo was as nothing compared to the story that went with it. _Hey There, Hackney!_ seemed to have dug up almost every bit of unflattering gossip they could find on Howard, beginning with the newspaper articles about him stalking Mrs Gideon by hanging around her fish pond night after night, and the piece from _The Guardian_ about the unfortunate episode with the binoculars, which Howard insisted was a simple misunderstanding brought about by him being interested in astronomy, and the neighbour not closing her curtains at night. And both cases had been thrown out of court anyway.

Then it had gone on to discuss his brief careers as a male prostitute, once with Eleanor, and before that with Bob Fossil. His old Zooniverse colleagues seemed to have filled the magazine in on that one, as well as explaining that Fossil was the former lover of Bollo, a gorilla, and Howard's current flatmate, which even Howard admitted looked sort of weird. The alleged fox bumming incident was in there too, and his sexual exploits with llamas.

The story mentioned that Howard had previously been engaged to an older man named Gregg from the West Country, an intersex artist, and rather than honourably ending the engagement, Howard had simply walked away from Gregg without an explanation, breaking Gregg's heart and sending the already frail soul insane with despair (Howard knew perfectly well Old Gregg had been barking mad from the get-go, so this part really was a work of complete fiction). The article insinuated that Howard made a habit of breaking hearts, reporting that Eleanor committed a crime of passion and went to Mexico to recover from the pain of losing him.

The worst of all was that the writer's mathematics had got completely screwed up. They had assumed that Vince was ten years younger than Howard, and aged around twenty-three: probably because that's what Vince said his age was. But the Zooniverse colleagues remembered Howard and Vince being a couple ten years ago, which Vince had told them about – which meant that Howard must have had a thirteen-year-old boyfriend at the time. Looking like a perverted supply teacher was not an asset in this situation, Howard having met Vince at school now seemed rather sinister, and calling him "little man" positively creepy.

"What I don't understand", said Howard as he finished reading the article with an ashen face, "is who spread all these rumours about me in the first place".

Vince looked stricken with guilt.

"I'm sorry Howard", he almost whispered, "but I think a lot of them were spread by me. Not the ones from the papers, but the other ones. I mean I told some people, and they exaggerated them or got the story mixed up. You see, I don't have much of a filter on my mind-tank, and I never know when to shut up".

"I don't understand, Vince. Why would you do something to hurt me like that?".

Howard didn't sound angry, just agonised and bewildered, and his voice seemed somehow distant, as if he was going far away from Vince in his mind.

"I was young and thick, Howard – even more thick than I am now. I was so angry and jealous of you being with someone else, anyone else, even weirdos like Old Gregg and Eleanor, instead of me, that I think I was a little bitch about it. And sometimes I probably just imagined that you were with other people".

"This is all my fault, then", said Howard wretchedly. "If I hadn't made you wait for me so long, you would have had no reason to be jealous. I'm afraid I did you terrible damage, Vince, and in turn you've done terrible damage to me".

"No, don't say that, Howard", said Vince, as if in pain.

"Vince, I'm not even sure we should be together", said Howard. "Look at what we've done to each other, and now it's come back to haunt us in the worst way possible. This whole thing could absolutely destroy us, and everything we've worked towards".

"What would be the point of us breaking up, Howard?", asked Vince. "What would we even do apart from each other?".

"I'd go back to Yorkshire", said Howard. "I've still got connections in the jazz scene there, and I could get work in a few clubs I know of. Maybe get involved in rep theatre or something".

"Well I wouldn't do anything like that", said Vince. "I'd spend the rest of my life being lonely and jealous and miserable, and doing everything I could to get you back. I'd follow you to Yorkshire, and stalk you, and hang around jazz clubs like some sad jazz groupie, and sit in the front row of every play you were in, and try to get into your dressing room, and beg you and beg you to come back to me".

"That probably shows what a bad influence I've been on you, Vince", said Howard sadly. "To be honest, I don't even understand why you love me, and part of me doesn't really believe it".

"Oh I don't know – I love you because you're _Howard_ ", said Vince. "I love you because you make me feel like everything is safe and wonderful, and you smell exciting like Christmas morning, and every part of me tingles when I'm with you".

"Are you sure that's really love?", asked Howard dubiously.

"Yes it is", said Vince firmly. "It's all kinds of love mixed together and they're all real and you have to believe in them".

Which was easy for Vince to say, thought Howard. Vince believed in unicorns and mermaids and a shade of purple that nobody else except him was able to see. Believing in some bonkers version of love that was safe and tingly and smelled of Christmas was just typical, really.

************************************************

That night Howard said he'd rather sleep alone in his own bed. It was the first time they had slept apart for several weeks, and Howard was almost shocked at how wrong it felt not to have Vince in his arms. He didn't know where to put his limbs, and tossed and turned in bed trying, and failing, to get comfortable. He couldn't remember how he used to sleep without Vince.

Knowing Vince was just a few feet away on the other side of the room was torture. Howard's chest hurt, his stomach ached, his throat was sore, and his eyes itched and burned from unshed tears. The thought that he might never be with Vince again was more than he could stand.

After a while, he heard Vince's voice in the dark.

"Howard, I know you're really upset with me, but can I ask about something?".

Howard gave a grunt which Vince decided signified consent.

"Howard, I know those stories about you weren't all true, but they weren't complete lies either. I mean, before I kissed you, you told me you were a virgin, but putting all these stories together, you can't have really been one".

"I told you the truth Vince – I said I had never kissed anyone before, and hadn't even held hands, and had never had sex".

"Mm, except you did hold hands with me in bed at the zoo", Vince said.

"No, _you_ held hands with _me_. I didn't do anything except lie there and let you".

"Okay Howard – but you really did prostitute yourself to Eleanor. I mean you must have done _something_ with her, she paid you a thousand euros".

"That was all your fault!", Howard said indignantly. "You were meant to rescue me, but you just left me with that awful person – I couldn't believe you'd do that to me, Vince".

"You mean like the way you left me with Kodiak Jack?", said Vince. "But anyway, you've been with at least one woman, Howard – Eleanor".

"Um ... Eleanor wasn't all woman", said Howard awkwardly. "Some bits of her were quite masculine".

"Whatcha mean? She had big hands? A little bit of hair on her top lip? Because that's pretty normal".

"No I meant her genitals, Vince", said Howard in embarrassment. "The masculine part about her was that she had a penis and testicles".

Vince screamed with laughter. He couldn't help it – Howard always made him laugh. Every time.

"So what did Eleanor make you do with .. er ... what did you end up doing?".

"I had to lick her balls", said Howard in a squirmy sort of way. "That's what you advertised me as doing, if you remember. And then she ... well, she came all over my face, and kissed and licked her own cum off my face. I got a bad rash from it, actually".

Vince laughed and laughed.

"You must have done a good job on her", he said, "because she ended up so in love with you that she saved your life; I did you a favour really. Did anything ever happen with Old Gregg? You were alone with him for a while, and you ended up wearing his ring".

"No it bloody didn't!", said Howard. "I agreed to marry the freak because he said it was the only way he would ever let me out of his underwater lair".

"And you know, we used to mess around a bit together", said Vince. "And what about on Xooberon? You can't say you're a proper virgin after that".

"Hey what about the old _What happens on Xooberon stays on Xooberon_ clause?", grouched Howard. "And the other stuff, we were just experimenting, weren't we? That's normal for young men. And there wasn't any bumming involved".

"So that's it? You think as long as you haven't bummed anyone and nobody's bummed you, then you're a virgin?", said Vince in disbelief. "You think you're a virgin right now, even though we're engaged and get off with each other all the time?".

"Um yeah pretty much", said Howard. "Isn't that how it works?".

"No, it isn't", said Vince, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Howard had such funny ideas about everything: it was his very innocence which got him into so many weird situations. Well, his innocence combined with his perviness.

"Well I still _feel_ like a virgin", said Howard, a bit uncertainly though.

"And what about bumming a fox? Does that not count either?", asked Vince.

"For the last time, I did _not_ bum Jack!", shouted Howard. "We formed a very close friendship, and I realised later I'd made a mistake getting so attached to one of the animals".

"Well it looked like you were bumming him", said Vince. "All cuddled up to him, and your trousers undone".

"Simply an affectionate embrace between friends, and it was hot in the fox hut so I loosened my clothing", said Howard in a prickly way.

"Jack made it sound as if you bummed him", said Vince.

"He was teasing you, Vince. You know what foxes are like", said Howard.

"And what about the llama?", asked Vince.

"That was in the line of duty, Vince", said Howard. "It's the only way to calm a llama down".

"What, giving it a bumming?", giggled Vince.

"I didn't _bum_ the llama, Vince, I _rutted_ the llama", said Howard with dignity. "They're two different things, look it up in the dictionary. And I did it as part of my job, there was nothing lascivious about it".

"Erm okay. So while we're at the Zooniverse and doing things as part of your job, what did you and Bob Fossil get up to together? I know you did something, because I saw the nude photos he took".

"I already explained about the photos – he forced me to take those photos so he could use them for blackmail. He said he could get me fired for stalking Mrs Gideon otherwise".

"Leroy told me that he saw you dancing for Fossil in the moonlight for coin in your little blue pants", said Vince.

"Well yes, a certain amount of dancing went on, only at night though so I got paid overtime. And what the hell was Leroy doing hanging around spying on us anyway?".

"I'd like to know that too", said Vince. "Leroy seems like a right perv, doesn't he? And what else – Fossil was always telling people that he made violent love to you".

"Huh, _violent_ all right", huffed Howard. "His particular kink is throwing paper clips at people while they're nude. He really gets off on that".

"So that's all you did? Danced in your underwear for Fossil, and let him throw paper clips at you in the nude?".

"Mm, pretty much", said Howard, before adding as an afterthought, "and gave him a few handjobs".

" _What_? You gave Fossil handjobs?", said Vince in shock. Fucking hell, he thought, no wonder Howard was so expert at that particular move. He was insanely talented with his hands.

"Well he increased my pay every time I gave him one, and he told me if I didn't, he'd fire me. I couldn't bear to be sent away from the Zooniverse, and away from you, Vince".

"You stupid tit, I would have gone with you if you'd got fired, Howard", Vince said in exasperation. "And I feel like a right berk, because I gave Fossil a blowjob so that he'd keep you on".

Howard chuckled. "Well, Fossil did a number on both of us, didn't he? He played us like a pair of prat-falling chumps".

"I could kill that creep", said Vince in a temper. "Ugh, and I gave him a blowie for nothing, and it's one of my most disgusting memories. And you gave him handjobs, that must have been horrible for you".

"Huh? Oh yeah, dreadful", said Howard. He sounded a bit shifty though.

"Howard, can I come in with you now?", asked Vince. "I'm so lonely without you, and I'm cold as well, and I hate not being with you".

Howard made a noise which Vince interpreted as assent, so he came over and snuggled into bed with him. It was so much warmer with Howard, and he could smell Howard properly, and everything felt safe and wonderful again. Vince got into his usual position in Howard's arms, and gave a sigh of contentment.

"I'm glad we had that talk, Howard", Vince said. "There were so many things I was angry and jealous about, and now I know what really happened and why it happened, I don't feel like that any more. And I was wrong to be jealous anyway – you weren't my boyfriend then, I only felt as if you were, and wanted you to be". He rubbed his fingers along Howard's stubbled jawline.

"That's good. But Vince, I know you think you love me, but I'm not sure you love me in the right way", said Howard worriedly. "The way you described it, it sounded more like an addiction". He stroked Vince's hair, and tangled his fingers in it.

"That's just you though, innit?", said Vince. "You're so sexy that you drive the people you love nuts, and they end up obsessed with you, and if they can't have you they commit murder and move to Mexico, or have a nervous breakdown, or an identity crisis, or follow you wherever you go. You can't help it – people can only love you by going a bit wrong".

"That sounds like a nightmare", said Howard.

"Nah, it feels great", Vince assured him. "It's like being given a hit of sugar or a dexie or a flirtini – you just want more and more of it, and you'd do anything to get more. You're like a big line of coke with a moustache, Howard. You're fucking irresistible". He kissed Howard's cheek.

"So it _is_ an addiction", said Howard in distress.

"Yeah it's bloody brilliant", said Vince happily. "So why do you love me, anyway? I'm not clever, and most of the time I annoy you".

"You're my Vince", said Howard, kissing him gently. "You're so beautiful it hurts to look at you, and you're filled with sunshine so I can't help smiling and being happy around you. And you're brave and strong and wise and sweet, and you give me hope for the future instead of being afraid of it".

"That sounds mental", said Vince. "Worse than me, even. I'm not beautiful – I'm too skinny and my face is put together all wrong and my hair's on backwards. I thought you were just being nice saying about me being beautiful before. And I'm empty inside, I'm all surface like a beach ball, remember? Are you sure you really love me, or you're imagining all this stuff?".

Howard let him know he really did love Vince, and said maybe one day Vince would be able to see for himself why he was so lovable.

"But Vince", he added, "that article is going to cause a lot of trouble, and I'm not sure we can survive it".

"Don't worry, Howard", said Vince sleepily. "We'll sort it".

***************************************************

Leroy might say that all publicity is good publicity, but it really isn't good publicity for it to be reported you had a thirteen-year-old boyfriend when you were twenty-three. It definitely hurts your image and damages your brand, and is a real marketing nightmare (for a start, who could you be marketed _to_ that wouldn't further damage the brand and so on?).

The Mighty Boosh received some cancellations, crowds were definitely down at their next gig, and The Velvet Onion security goons had to throw out quite a number of hecklers who'd turned up to shout rude things at Howard. He felt like Jerry Lee Lewis in 1958, except Vince wasn't his cousin.

After the show, quite a few fans came up to Howard to reassure him that they didn't believe the stories, which was the most attention Howard had ever received. He found it quite embarrassing, although it was nice being told that people believe in you.

The tall young woman whose hair Vince had made look glossy and pretty instead of a tangled mess hung around again, and when Howard acknowledged her, she stood there looking upset and saying, "Mr Moon - ", but with nothing after it. She twisted anxiously on her own wrist until it went red.

"It's Howard", said Howard gently. "And please don't hurt your wrist like that".

"Mr Moon ... I mean Howard", she gasped. "It's not true, I _know_ it's not true". She stopped twisting her wrist, Howard was glad to see.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you. It uh, means a great deal", said Howard, feeling embarrassed again, even though she hadn't really said anything yet.

She looked as if she wanted to say a lot more, but couldn't. She gave him a helpless look as if the words just wouldn't come out, smiled shakily, and then walked away. At least this time she didn't _run_ away, and there wasn't any jam, so Howard felt that she was improving. In ten years time they might have an actual conversation.

Leroy came to talk with Howard and Vince in their dressing room. He told them that they didn't have the resources to sue _Hey There, Hackney!_ , but he would make the magazine print a retraction, as they could easily prove Vince wasn't really twenty-three, and the story made no sense anyway. He wasn't sure any of the rest of it could be disproven, and it might be a case of least said, soonest mended.

The next week there was a minuscule notice in _Hey There, Hackney!_ explaining that they'd made a mistake, and Howard hadn't really had an underage boyfriend at any point. Most people seemed to have done their own maths and worked out that Vince couldn't have been thirteen and working in a zoo ten years ago, and was definitely an adult now. And there was a general feeling that musicians were in a special category when it came to that sort of thing.

The whole thing gradually blew over and people mostly forgot about it. Except that there was now a vague impression that Howard, who had been considered rather dull, and often called "the other one" of The Mighty Boosh, had something a bit dark and mysterious about him. He had gained a slight touch of being mad and bad and dangerous to know, with nothing specific you could hold against him. Which was pretty rock and roll.

So on the whole, having an entirely fictional thirteen-year-old boyfriend in his past had actually turned out to be quite good for Howard's image and his brand and everything. Not that I'm recommending it to improve your own career, don't get me wrong.

And Stephen Fry wrote Howard a very kind letter, saying that _Hey There, Hackney!_ had dug up a few of his own youthful indiscretions and printed them in the magazine, and put him through a similar amount of stress. Stephen Fry went on to say that he had eventually written a novel about it all, and made quite a lot of money and won a prize for it; he recommended that as a satisfying vengeance if Howard would like to do it as well some day.

Stephen Fry said Hugh Laurie sent his regards, and _Hey There, Hackney!_ had been awful to him as well, and written some appalling stuff about him supposedly doing something ghastly that was never proven, but he couldn't write himself due to being a doctor with a gammy leg in America.

**************************************************

One night Howard and Vince were in bed together after a much more successful gig with better and less heckling crowds. Howard thought he was ready to put the whole _Hey There, Hackney!_ chapter behind him, and was enjoying having Vince lying on top of him and snogging him in a thoughtful kind of way, as if it might be leading somewhere quite interesting.

"Howard?", Vince said.

"Mm?", Howard replied.

"I would have really fancied you when I was thirteen".

"Vince, please don't go down this path. Please".

"I'm serious. I was a very horny thirteen-year-old, I liked older guys, and you're just my type".

"This is a dark path to go down, Vince. We won't enjoy walking on this path at all. It's slippery with moss, and there's tree roots all over it, and it's basically a path where we should turn around right now and go back".

Vince whispered in Howard's ear.

"No, Vince – we will not be doing that as a fun role play".

More whispering.

"Because it would make me vomit, that's why".

Urgent whispering.

"I prefer that nice role play we did where you were a customer who came into the shop and I sold you some elbow patches and you went away completely satisfied with your purchase and recommended the shop to all your friends".

Further whispering from Vince.

"Oh okay – you can be a nineteen year old college student and I'll be your perverted Art tutor who makes you draw me in the nude while you're nude as well. Happy now?".

Vince indicated he was very happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made September 1 the day Vince and Howard met as a tribute to Laladee195's "The Boosh Attends Hogwarts" stories: the school term always began on September 1 in the Harry Potter universe. There are more such references coming up!
> 
> We know the name The Mighty Boosh came from a comment made about Mike Fielding's hair, but I can't see how Howard and Vince know or how they would explain it, so I showed that being a point of confusion for them. I made Naboo give them the name, as a connection with Mike.
> 
> Bob Fossil and Bollo having a brief fling was mentioned in one of the stage shows. Howard rutting a llama in order to calm it down was in the radio show; in the TV show Vince said he "got off with" the llama. What Howard means by rutting being different from bumming I have no idea, even after consulting the dictionary. We'll have to take Howard's word for it that there nothing sexual about it on his side.
> 
> For what happened on Xooberon, see "What Happens on Xooberon Stays on Xooberon". For Vince and Howard's messing around together at the zoo, see "Feel I Could Touch the Sky", and "Calm a Howard Deep Down". For the alleged fox bumming incident and why Vince was so suspicious about it, see "Rumours, and I Ain't Talking Fleetwood Mac Here". 
> 
> Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie did share a flat together in Dalston early in their careers. I presume Stephen Fry's "youthful indiscretions" the gossip magazine dug up included the short stint he spent in prison on remand for theft as a teenager. Stephen Fry didn't turn this into a best-selling prize-winning novel in our universe, although it's in his first autobiography, and one of his novels has won an award. Hugh Laurie's been hounded by the tabloids in the past over various actual and alleged relationship dramas.


	8. The Edge (Not the Guy From U2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious figure hops across the pond to meddle in Vince and Howard's lives, and transfer them to another medium. Ooh yeah, actual plot – take that, Dickens. (Posting early for personal reasons: should be back to normal schedule next time).

Vince and Howard were in their dressing room with Leroy after a truly epic gig. The sort of gig with a huge manic crowd going wild and shouting their names and jumping up and down in a manner that was meant to be dancing. There had been some slight moshing, there had had been a bit of crowd surfing, and a mild attempt to storm the stage so someone could touch Vince. He gave them a friendly little hug and let the security goons handle it from that point on.

Howard felt exhausted and strung out, soaked with sweat and with his eyes closed. It took it out of him, that sort of effort where he was pitched until his nerves were at breaking point. It had been wonderful, he had loved it, he had given the music everything he had, but it was almost too much. He had a towel around his shoulders as if he was still Howard "Monsoon" Moon the boxer having gone ten rounds with a killeroo, and his hair was dripping. Even his moustache was wet.

Vince, on the other hand, was bouncing off the walls. He always felt energised after a show like that, as if he could absorb the energy of the crowd and take it into himself. He couldn't stop laughing and leaping about, giggling like a maniac and talking without cease – mostly to Leroy, as Vince knew Howard needed a bit of comedown time before he would be ready to walk home.

"Hey Leroy", Vince said, "remember years ago you told me you saw Howard dancing in the moonlight in his little blue pants?".

"Not really – oh wait a minute, yeah, yeah, with Fossil, right?", said a distracted Leroy, who was uploading some new photos to the website.

"Well, why you were perving on Howard in the first place?", asked Vince. "Were you trying to get a good look at the hot Moon booty or something?".

"Yeah I'd like to know that as well", said Howard, opening his eyes.

Leroy snorted.

"Howard, you were dancing for Fossil at eleven pm in the ice rink car park", he said. "I was just coming off my shift, and word to the wise, everyone who was going home saw you".

"But you remembered the little blue pants", said Vince slyly.

"I never said that to you Vince, I think you might be putting words into my mouth there", countered Leroy.

"Oh well, maybe I just liked the idea of Howard wearing little blue pants", admitted Vince. "What were you wearing, Howard?".

"I can't remember – it was years ago", said Howard. "But I did have some blue pants around that time".

"I loved those pants", said Vince nostalgically. "They were so little".

"Anyway, it wasn't too long after that you told me Howard was your boyfriend", said Leroy to Vince. "So the moonlight dancing obviously didn't put you off".

"No, I thought I'd better snap him up and keep him away from all you other blokes", said Vince with a grin.

Leroy rolled his eyes. The way Vince was so certain everyone wanted Howard could get tiresome sometimes. He was like a deluded fan who is convinced that everyone else has seen all 161 episodes of the original _Danger Mouse_ and is equally upset about the eighth series being cut short.

You can tell them you've never watched _Danger Mouse_ , don't understand what they're talking about, and have no interest in discussing it further until you're blue in the face – they'll just say that your blue face reminds them of the time Danger Mouse had to locate some stolen blueprints, and suggest you re-watch that episode together, as they've only seen it thirty-eight times, and not since the August Bank Holiday last.

Leroy longed to get off the subject of Howard, as he knew Vince could prattle on about him for hours if left unchecked. An interruption would be very welcome right about ... now.

There was a loud, almost imperious, knock at the door, and Leroy rushed to open it, thanking whoever it is that sends immediate interruptions so Vince would stop talking about Howard's little blue pants and how sexy they were, and could Howard please get some identical pants tomorrow, even smaller if possible?

Leroy had hardly unlocked the door before it dramatically swung open to reveal a pudgy man wearing a black turtleneck sweater, black beret, and horn-rimmed spectacles.

"Gentlemen, a magnificent show!", he said in an American accent. He sounded as if he would have liked to say it in a rich, deep, echoing boom, but he didn't have that sort of voice. "Bravo, I say, bravo!". He clapped slowly and dramatically to punctuate his words, with hands held up high.

"Er thanks", said Vince. "Who are you?".

"I am Rick Felcher, film director", said Rick dramatically. "You will always remember that, because it rhymes".

"Um, _Rick Felcher_ doesn't actually rhyme with _film director_ ", said Howard.

"There is an assonance to it, my dear boy, an assonance", Rick said with a brightly unnerving smile. "And because of that, you will always recall my name and occupation. That, and the fact that I have come to change your lives – that will also help you to remember".

"Sorry, I'm confused", said Vince. "What's going on?".

"Allow me to explain, poppet", smiled Rick. "I have been following your career with interest from across the Atlantic. An article in _Sugar Ape_ here, a music review in an underground music magazine there. It whet my appetite".

"What got wet?", asked a puzzled Vince.

"But then the clincher, the real humdinger in a hay ride, the thing that made me book the next flight to London that was at a convenient time and reasonable price, was this astounding article in _Hey There, Hackney!_ , which I read with eagerness in a little coffee shop in Greenwich Village".

He flourished the magazine at them.

"Wait – they read _Hey There, Hackney!_ in Greenwich Village?", asked Howard in surprise.

"Yes yes, my dear boy", said Rick impatiently. "We Americans are a sophisticated, cultured people, not parochial at all. We can all instantly point out Bahrain on a map, and we are highly connected to the international community and all its various media".

He flourished the magazine again, as if feeling his original flourish hadn't been acknowledged fully enough.

"This article", Rick breathed reverently. " _The Secret Life and Loves of Howard Moon_ ; it was nothing short of a revelation to me. It was a story that had everything. Love! Sex! Crime! Perversion! Cute fluffy animals! And all centred on this dashing man in the photo, this Svengali, this Casanova, bending others to his will, and breaking hearts wherever he goes".

He turned to Howard, who was looking especially unimpressive, being tired and sweaty with a damp towel around him.

"Most of the article wasn't really true", said Howard. "They printed a retraction the following week".

"It doesn't matter", said Rick, waving that away with his hand. "The thing is that the story gripped me with its savage beauty. You are a dark, mysterious, complex man, Howard Moon – you have what we call in the business ... Edge. A whole shit ton of Edge".

Everyone stared at him.

"And you Vince", continued Rick. "You are essential to the story. The rare and exotic creature who finally captured the heart of this raging Colossus, the beauty able to tame the beast!".

"Now wait a minute", frowned Howard. "A beast?".

"I speak figuratively, dear boy", Rick explained. "Although may I quote your own website, which states _Howard is a big sexy beast_ , signed charliemingus4eva".

"I think that's a fake comment", said Howard.

"Wait, are you saying that you want to make a Hollywood movie based on me and Howard?", asked Vince.

Rick recoiled, as if Vince had suggested he might want to spend a pleasant evening licking out a garbage bin on the New Jersey foreshore.

"Hollywood?", he screeched. "I am a serious director, dollface. I studied under the great Jurgen Haabermaaster. Hollywood, pah! Hollywood is not fit to kiss my heiny".

"You studied under Jurgen Haabermaaster?", Howard asked excitedly.

"I owe Jurgen everything, everything", said Rick passionately. "He changed my life, because he cured me of the dreaded shakes. I couldn't hold a camera because my hands kept shaking with nerves, but Jurgen rid me of the shakes, and because of him, I was able to become a great film maker – to take on, if you will, some of Jurgen's own mantle of greatness".

Howard looked as if he had found a kindred spirit. Rick was not only a protege of Jurgen Haabermaaster, but he had overcome anxiety problems with the help of a great mentor. Plus he thought that Howard had Edge – a whole shit ton of it. The man was clearly brilliant. Howard was immediately on board with whatever Rick had in mind for them.

"Well, what then?", said Vince, not looking as if he was on board with anything at all.

"I want to follow you around with a small camera crew, and film you in your everyday lives", explained Rick. "A fly-on-the-wall, day-by-day, warts-and-all look at the real Howard and Vince. The music, the love, the sex, the crime, the perversion, the cute fluffy animals – everything. Finally culminating in your wedding, which will be huge and incredible, and which we incidentally will pay for, and everyone will be caught up in the romance and magic of it all!".

"So is this some kind of reality television project?", said Vince. "Because we're not interested. We've had enough problems with the media poking their noses into our lives". He didn't mention that it had been entirely his idea that they poke their noses in there.

"No no no no no, honeybunch", Rick reassured him. "My goodness no. This isn't some tacky reality TV show – this will be a serious documentary, focusing on The Mighty Boosh and your music. I see it as a sort of cross between _Gimme Shelter_ and _Let's Get_ _Lost_ , but also an incredible love story for the ages between two musical geniuses – the electro prince and the jazz maverick".

"Nah, we won't do it", said Vince.

"Hey wait a minute, Vince, let's hear Rick out", said Howard, who liked the idea of a film about him being a jazz maverick genius. "Have you made any other music docos, could we see an example of your work?".

"I directed a short doco about 1970s New York proto-punk duo The Cracked Nipples – it's called _Circling The Nipples, Baby_. They were going to be the next Suicide, but you know how it is with proto-punk musicians, how their careers end ...", Rick trailed off sadly.

"Drug abuse?", suggested Vince.

"Mental illness?", guessed Howard.

"No, no – they just realise they can make a lot more money and have a much better time if they get regular jobs and lead normal lives", said Rick. "It's a tragedy, actually. The vocalist ran a successful hardware store in Cleveland until he retired, what a waste".

Rick showed them some of _Circling The Nipples, Baby_. It was extremely avant-garde – most of the time you could only see the tops of the heads of The Cracked Nipples, and whenever they did anything, Rick seemed to sweep away to show something else, like a tree or some parked cars. During their performances, Rick had shot them either so close up you could only see their nostrils, or so far away that they were almost invisible.

Rick explained that he had made _Circling The Nipples, Baby_ a long time ago, and he was doing a lot of amphetamines and heroin at the time, like everyone else in Greenwich Village. He said the documentary he would make about them would be far more mainstream, but still with plenty of edge and bite.

"What do you think, Leroy?", said Howard. "You're our media manager – a film is media, so would you advise us to be in a music documentary about The Mighty Boosh?".

"It would really raise your profile", said Leroy thoughtfully. "And if the film was distributed worldwide The Boosh could become internationally known. As long as you're both happy with it, I can't see any reason not to do it. I would only ask that I not be included on screen: I can't stand being on camera".

"I can't think why not, Leroy – you're so cute", said Vince.

"It's got nothing to do with how I look, I just always feel nervous in front of cameras".

"You wouldn't need to be filmed", Rick reassured him. "I can think of a number of ways we could creatively include you as Leroy, the man behind The Boosh, the power behind the throne if you will, without ever showing your face on screen".

"I can't believe you two want to do this movie", said Vince. "That article created so much trouble for us, Howard – we almost broke up over it! And now you want to work with someone who only came to us _because_ of the article".

"Maybe this is something good coming out of something bad", said Howard. "You know, you always turn out to be right, Vince – you agreeing to that article was a sign that it would eventually lead us to doing this film".

"Howard, I'm sorry", said Vince, "but all my instincts are telling me that this going to go wrong, and badly wrong".

"Have you got my script or something?", asked Howard quizzically. "What happened to my sunny sidekick who believes we're in the best of all possible worlds and thinks everything is genius?".

Vince looked at Howard. He had rarely seen Howard so excited about something before, and he realised Howard was probably eager to get in front of a camera operated by an avant-garde film maker again. When he thought about it, his whole relationship with Howard seemed to be him talking Howard into things and Howard only agreeing to them because he loved Vince and couldn't bear to say no to him.

And then – oh no, Howard was taking his hand and speaking to him softly and gently in a way which meant he could already tell Vince was going to say yes, and giving him little kisses, and oh no, Howard must have his script or something, because Vince was nodding and saying I can't believe I'm doing this, and oh no, Vince couldn't help fearing he'd made a terrible mistake and he couldn't ever remember making a mistake before.

And Howard kept grinning at him as if something amazing had just occurred. There could be no more magnanimous conqueror than Howard Moon. You know, once he had Edge.

*************************************************

Filming began the very next day. Rick came over to the flat, suddenly very business-like and with masses of legal waivers for them to sign. They looked alarming.

"Absolves us of all legal responsibility in the case of sudden death ... painful death ... loss of life or limb ... eyes unexpectedly falling out ... giant squid tentacles ... trees toppling ... buildings collapsing without warning ... tidal waves ... indigestion ... irritability ... insanity ... amnesia ... that funny feeling you get when you realise you've forgotten something but can't remember what it is", Howard read aloud from it in some concern.

"Just for insurance purposes, dear boy", Rick reassured him. "Virtually meaningless. You'll be safe in my hands – at least one of The Cracked Nipples went on to lead a long happy life as a hardware store owner in Cleveland".

"And the other one?", Howard asked nervously.

"Just sign it", Rick said firmly, "so we can get straight to work".

Howard signed it, feeling rather worried. Vince had already signed it without reading a word. Howard could tell he still wasn't happy about the film and was slightly sulky. Howard believed Vince was irresistibly attractive when he was sulking, his lips fuller and eyes more intense, and thought it might come across rather well on film, so he didn't try to make him snap out of his mood. Sulkiness also made Vince quieter, which might have been another of its attractions for Howard.

Rick had two film crew members with him, but he didn't introduce them to Howard and Vince, telling them he wanted them to learn to ignore the crew and not think about being filmed. He assured them that would happen quicker than they imagined. The two crew members were anonymous looking and almost instantly forgettable, dressed in drab nondescript clothing. Howard couldn't tell how old they were, and wasn't even completely sure of their gender. Rick just called them One and Two, and Howard thought One was probably a man but was less certain about Two.

Rick told them not to talk to One and Two, although after One almost got run over by a passing bus, he said they could communicate with each other in case of emergency.

Rick filmed Vince and Howard strolling hand in hand up the street the Nabootique was on, and then doing a determined strut side by side, as if they owned Dalston. They were what Rick called establishing shots.

"Now for the theme music, Howard dear boy", Rick said, "I was thinking of the opening bars of your lovely song, _A Journey Through Time and Space_. You know, the part where you speak, and then you and Vince sing _Come with us now .._."

Howard nodded, and quickly asked about royalties, which meant a stack more forms to fill out – at least these ones didn't go on about tentacles, although they probably should have. Rick then turned to Vince.

"And Vince babycakes, the visuals with the music – this fabulous backdrop you did: let me show you the one I mean. Mostly black and white with gimp masks and these amusing round things ...?".

"Polo mints", Vince said.

"You have an extraordinary artistic vision, petal", said Rick as he examined some of Vince's artwork that Leroy had posted to the website. "Where did you study?".

"Howard and I went to St Caedmon's College in Lewisham", said Vince. "I studied Art, and learned Fashion Design at St Martin's during summer school. Howard started a degree in American Studies, but he dropped out and became a zookeeper. I joined him after I finished college".

"I was hoping to concentrate on jazz, funk, and jazz-funk in my studies", explained Howard, "but after more than a year, I'd hardly done anything on them at all. My essay on the use of jazz as a secret weapon during the Cold War was considered an epic tour de force though".

"I never finished my degree either", Rick said. "I was in my third year at the Greenwich Village School of Film and Cinema Studies when it was discovered I suffered from the shakes, and would never be able to actually make a film. Luckily Jurgen saved me".

Rick asked them if there was any chance of doing some filming at the old Zooniverse, but Howard told him it had been turned into a big private park surrounded by posh terrace houses. It was funny to think of people living on top of jungle, and strolling around flower beds fertilised by mutants.

**************************************************

The trouble started when they began filming in the flat. Rick wanted to film Howard and Vince lying in bed together for an entire day, as an homage to John Lennon and Yoko Ono, another pair of musical collaborators in a romantic relationship. Vince asked if he was meant to be Yoko, because if so, he would have to put on a hat. He thought he probably was meant to be her, as they were both artists, while Howard was a poet like John.

Howard suddenly realised that his and Vince's two single beds would look very unusual for a couple who had supposedly been together for ten years. Naboo and Bollo shared a double bed, but they couldn't spend all day in their flatmates' bed, and besides, it was full of hash and gorilla hair. Howard ran up ahead, shoved the two single beds together, and covered them with an assortment of blankets and rugs to try to make it look like it was just one bed. It wasn't very successful, however Rick seemed happy enough.

Howard felt incredibly embarrassed being filmed in bed, and Vince was still being sulky, so they just lay there side by side doing nothing. At least, Howard twiddled nervously with his fingers and looked trapped and shifty, while Vince played with the brim of his hat and stared out the window. Howard wondered what on earth John and Yoko had done for all that time in bed: all he could remember from the song was that John had eaten chocolate cake in a bag. Howard had just made a jam sponge, but the only bags they had were Vince's handbags. Howard had an idea that Vince's sulkiness might turn a bit nasty if Howard ate out one of of his handbags and got crumbs in it.

"Try to relax guys", pleaded Rick. "And remember that whole love, sex, and perversion thing we're attempting to capture here".

This only got Howard more stressed, which was clearly amusing Vince no end. Vince's contribution was to go under the blankets and start sucking on Howard's toes, which made Howard squeal and thrash around in the bed, saying he was very ticklish there. Rick filmed this enthusiastically, possibly thinking it looked like some kind of perversion was going on.

In the middle of this, Naboo and Bollo came home, bringing the shamans with them. The shamans were all either drunk or high or both, and ready to party. Saboo and Tony Harrison started laying down tracks and bickering over whether to play Radiohead or Groove Theory to get everyone on the dance floor. In other words, it was a pretty standard Sunday.

"Is it always this chaotic around here?", Rick asked Howard and Vince, shouting over the sound of Groove Theory.

The completely innocuous Two had just been threatened with a beheading by Dennis, and One was having the kind of encounter with Tony Harrison which made it obvious why tentacle attacks had to be on the legal waiver forms.

"A lot of the time, yeah", Vince shouted back, now out of the blankets with a crumpled hat.

"I can't work under these conditions", Rick shouted. "This kind of noise and stress could bring on the shakes for me".

"We understand", shouted back Vince. "Nice meeting you, and goodbye".

"No, you don't get - ", shouted Rick, before the music suddenly stopped mid-track. Dennis had stopped it. His sword had been involved.

Rick continued in a normal voice, "We need somewhere else to film, that's all. I'll rent an apartment in the neighbourhood, and we can film there once you've moved in".

Howard frowned, and said, "I thought you wanted a warts-and-all portrait of the real Howard and Vince?".

"You got warts this big, you do something about them, dear boy", Rick said.

"But how will it be an authentic portrayal of our lives?", Howard asked.

"It's standard practice, my dear boy", Rick replied. "Haven't you noticed any time you see an interview with a celebrity at their home, the house is always clean and empty like no one lives there? That's because it's not their house – they just rented one for the day. Otherwise you get rubber-neckers, you get stalkers, you get burglars ...".

"We're not celebrities, and interviews aren't the same as documentaries", argued Howard, genuinely perturbed that the pure artistic vision of the film was already getting muddied. Jurgen Haabermaaster would never have allowed this.

"Gee whiz, I thought you two would be happy to have your own apartment for a while", said Rick in exasperation. "And for that matter, you're getting married – isn't it time you got your own place anyway?".

Howard looked uncertainly at Vince, and for the first time since he agreed to do the film, Vince was smiling. He was finally losing that sulky mood, although Howard thought Vince looked extraordinarily beautiful when he smiled. His eyes shone like blue stars, and he radiated happiness.

Howard sighed, knowing he didn't stand a chance against that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick Felcher is clearly meant to be played by Rich Fulcher. Rick's connection with 1970s proto-punk bands is a tribute to The Velvet Onion, an obvious allusion to The Velvet Underground: amphetamines and heroin were their drugs of choice. 
> 
> St Caedmon is an English saint from Yorkshire who spent his life caring for animals and composing mystical poetry and songs, known for being sweet and humble despite being a genius (very Booshy). St Caedmon's College may be a rough equivalent of Goldsmiths College in our universe, devoted to the arts and humanities and part of London University. Vince and Howard's academic careers are vaguely analogous to Noel and Julian's. Jazz actually was used as a weapon during the Cold War, oddly enough. 
> 
> The song Howard is thinking of is "The Ballad of John and Yoko" by The Beatles. It mentions John and Yoko's Bed-In for Peace which they did on their honeymoon, and is another wedding shenanigans story about two musical partners.


	9. Going In Boots and All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter which finally answers the age old question, "Hey are these two ever going to bum, or what?".

The next day after they finished work, Howard and Vince agreed to meet Rick at the flat he had found for them. It was on the same street as the Nabootique, but closer to the High Street: not over a shop like Naboo's, but in a plain honest brick Victorian home that had been turned into flats. The Victorians might have had their faults, but they didn't piss about when they built houses, and this one had been designed for an extended family of twelve, eight servants, and three large dogs to live in, so there was plenty of room for a few flats.

"It smells a bit funny", said Vince.

"It's just clean", said Howard.

"Freshly painted, and all the furniture is new", Rick said as if he was trying to sell them the property. "Look, even the range is new". He gestured hopefully at the gas cooker.

Howard and Vince just stood there, saying nothing, and looking lost.

"It might look bleak right now", Rick continued, "but I'll have a designer brighten it up".

In fact it was a completely ordinary one-bedroom furnished flat, all white paint and uncarpeted floors. But Vince and Howard had never lived in anything like it together. They had gone from boarding school to college digs to a little wooden hut at a zoo to a crowded messy flat they shared with a stoner and a gorilla. It was a culture shock, and if Rick had got them anything more opulent, they wouldn't have been able to cope at all.

"How can you afford this?", asked Vince. "I thought independent film-makers were all broke and struggling?".

"Please, once you get all that sweet arts grant coin you got moolah coming out your wazoo", sniffed Rick. "It's a freaking gravy train".

"So who's funding you?", asked Howard.

"My patrons are The Greenwich Village Council for the Cinematic Arts and Sciences, and The Jurgen Haabermaaster Foundation", said Rick carelessly. "Plus I'm getting a retainer from _The Village Voice_ to send weekly updates on my progress to readers, and a fuck-load of fees as long as I use certain products in the film. That reminds me, you both have to start drinking Java Junk coffee, pronto".

"But we only drink tea", Howard protested. "Made in a pot. From tea leaves".

"Not any more, dear boy", said Rick smoothly. "Or at least, not on camera. Drink all the hot tea you want on your own time".

Howard began getting that familiar sinking feeling that meant a wave of dread was going to break over him soon.

Vince smirked smugly. The words "I told you so", the most hateful that your partner can ever utter, would not cross his lips (he wasn't a monster), but he was _not_ saying them very expressively.

************************************************

Later that evening Howard and Vince finished unpacking their possessions and put their food away in the fridge and cupboards. Howard said he would take Vince to dinner because it was too late to cook, although really he was intimidated by the gleaming new cooker.

They were only a few minutes walk from cafes and restaurants, and ended up going for Chinese at an old place with tiled walls that looked as if The Hitcher would have been happy having a dish of eels in it. Howard ordered a lot of different little things, hoping some of them would tempt Vince into eating. Vince sometimes preferred many small portions of food to one big dish, and Howard thought that a spring roll here and a cup of broth there might suit him better.

"I just realised we've been together for weeks now and I've never taken you out to dinner before", Howard said as they waited for their food.

"That's okay Howard, I prefer your cooking anyway", said Vince, putting his hand on Howard's thigh.

"I asked you to dinner on your birthday last year, but you turned me down", Howard reminded him. "I wanted to talk to you".

"What were you going to say?", asked Vince curiously.

"That ... that I was in love with you and was sorry for how I treated you and that things could be different if you wanted them to be", Howard replied. He put his hand over Vince's.

"Were you going to take me for Chinese?".

"No, somewhere nice with candles and flowers and tablecloths".

"I would have liked that", said Vince, looking down at the bare wooden table. "Only ... I was still pissed off about you leaving me to go to Denmark, when you said you'd never leave me".

"I was only there for two weeks", said Howard, stroking Vince's hand.

"You said you were never coming back".

"Yeah ... that was pretty stupid of me, wasn't it?", said Howard. "But you said you were leaving The Mighty Boosh to join another band, after saying we'd be musical partners forever. It seemed as if you hated me. I didn't think you'd care what I did".

"I was probably being a bit of a tit, really", admitted Vince. "So why is it that things could have been different on my birthday and not before?".

"It's hard to explain", said Howard.

"You said that before", Vince responded. "Give it a try".

Howard took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Well, do you remember how I always wanted to act, but my stage fright was too bad for me to do it?".

Vince nodded.

"And then you let me have a go at The Velvet Onion, and I was able to perform on stage?".

"Yeah you were genius, Howard. You blew the audience away. You blew _me_ away. I was going mental over you".

"Well just before that, I ran into a famous actor called Montgomery Flange in a local bar. I told him about the stage fright, and he agreed to train me in the art of acting in his secret woodland dojo".

"Howard, this bloke sounds well dodgy", said Vince. "Why did he agree to train a complete stranger he met in a bar? And who even _has_ a secret woodland dojo?".

"He wanted revenge on Sammy the Crab", replied Howard, answering the first question. "Sammy the Crab ruined his life and ended his career, years and years ago".

"That's mental", said Vince. "And what did he want from you in return?".

"Just that I skip about in my underwear and a pair of tights", said Howard with a blush.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?", Vince said. "Some dodgy old man you meet in a bar tells you to run around in knickers and a pair of nylons for him in the middle of the woods, and you immediately agree to it. It's a wonder you didn't give _him_ handjobs and all. You've got to stop letting men make you do pervy things just because they're your boss or your drama teacher!".

"It was all part of the training", Howard said defensively, although rather red-faced. "And Montgomery cured me of what he called the chokes, and once they were gone, I was ... different".

"Different how?".

"I ... I wasn't afraid like I was before. Before I felt so anxious that whenever I got scared, I'd just run away from the situation. I couldn't tell you how I felt, the feelings were too strong, and instead I'd shut myself in a cupboard and give myself Chinese burns. I was a useless mess, Vince, and not good enough for you".

"Oh Howard", said Vince, taking his hand. "And I didn't do anything to help you, just made things worse. I left it all up to a weird old pervert to change your life".

"You couldn't have helped me, Vince", Howard assured him. "Montgomery said I had the worst case of the chokes he'd ever seen, and taking the chokes from me actually killed him, the effort was so intense".

"Bloody hell", Vince said, at a loss for other words.

"So do you still want to marry me, Vince, knowing all this about me?", asked Howard.

"Howard, I'd marry you even if you still _had_ the chokes", said Vince tenderly, giving him a little kiss. "It was all in your head that you weren't good enough for me and couldn't make me happy".

"I'm still not really sure I'm good enough for you, Vince", said Howard, "and I don't know if I ever will be".

"Howard you stupid tit, we could have got together at any time since the day we met, and I would have been the happiest person in the world", said Vince. "I'm just glad we're getting married so I can protect you from these men who keep getting you to do pervy things for them".

"You know Vince, at one time _you_ were my boss, and _you_ made me do pervy things", said Howard with a shifty smile.

"Dunno what you're talking about", said Vince innocently.

" _I love The Chosen One, loving him is so much fun_ ", hummed Howard under his breath.

"Hey what about the old _What happens on Xooberon stays on Xooberon_ clause?", grinned Vince.

He and Howard began snogging passionately in the restaurant thinking about those long Xooberon nights, their hands all over each other. That is, until the waitress arrived with their food and was quite cross with them. Why couldn't they wait to get home to do that, instead of holding her up? She had a job to do like everyone else, didn't she? There was a time and a place for that, gents, and this was neither the time nor the place.

Howard looked guilty, and Vince gave her a dazzling smile and told her they'd be going home very soon and be out of her hair. It was the first time they ever called the flat "home".

*************************************************

It felt strange being in a double bed with Vince, Howard thought later on that night. He was used to them being squeezed together, Vince so close in his arms he almost felt like part of Howard's own body, and now there was so much room that Howard didn't even know how to hold Vince any more. He felt shy with Vince, as if they barely knew each other and yet were forced to share a bed.

"'Night Vince", said Howard, as he gave Vince a chaste kiss on the lips.

"What kind of goodnight kiss was that?", Vince demanded. "That was the kiss you give someone you've been married to for fifty years, not someone you've been engaged to for a few weeks".

He showed Howard the kind of kiss he thought he should have been getting, but Howard slipped out of his grasp and moved further away. It was easy to do that in a double bed.

"I'm worried that Rick might have put hidden cameras in the flat", he explained. "I don't want to end up on a sex tape or something".

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of", Vince told him. "We'd sell a squillion euros worth of sex tape with you in it. Besides, the way Rick was going on before, we'll soon be having sex on camera right in front of him".

"That is _not_ happening", said Howard firmly.

"Oh yeah? The way you let men boss you around, any day now it's going to be _Oh yes sir Mr Felcher sir, you're a genius who trained under my idol Jurgen Haabermaaster, of course I'll bum Vince on the bed while you film us, sir_ ".

Howard gave a bearlike growl, and threw himself on top of Vince, pinning him to the mattress and wrestling with him while Vince shrieked in mock terror. You can't really wrestle someone in a single bed, so Howard had got himself some new moves, first post. Not flimsy, either.

"You do realise this is the first scene of our sex tape, don't you?", giggled Vince.

Howard pretended to bite Vince in the throat, and rolled off him, although somehow they were still tangled up together.

"Any more lip from you and you'll get another dose of that, you little titbox", Howard said.

"Seriously though Howard", said Vince, "don't you think it's time I went to Boots so we're ready? We've got our own flat, we've got a proper bed, and Boots is five minutes walk from here".

"I thought we'd save that for after we're married", said Howard bashfully.

"No way, I'm not spending my honeymoon getting broken in", objected Vince. "I want us to know what we're doing by then".

Howard eventually agreed to Vince going to Boots, but said he wanted to spend lots of time getting prepared together. And he only wanted Vince to have him, not the other way around, saying he wasn't ready for that. Vince had to go along with it, because you can't exactly force your fiance to bum you, it's not good manners, and doesn't really work anyway. He hoped Howard might be up for some switching later though. With any luck, before the honeymoon.

*************************************************

So the very next day Vince went to Boots and bought up their entire stock of everything they needed, Howard waiting nervously outside in case he was mistaken for a perverted supply teacher up to no good. His nervous expression was definitely best kept out of the shop.

They took their time getting used to the idea, and on Howard's insistence, even watched some videos together – Howard always felt more confident after taking tips from a professional. Vince had made Leroy get the videos, telling him that as their media manager, it was his job to buy their media for them. Either Vince had instructed him carefully, or Leroy was a very sympathetic purchaser of porn, because he had chosen videos that Howard really liked. They weren't that different from his arthouse film collection, except less arty and you could see everything properly.

Vince was very patient about getting Howard ready for him, using his fingers and a stack of Boots. Because you know the formula – twice as much as you think you need, then double it, then just a bit more, and you're practically there. Even fingers need Boots if you use enough of them, and Vince had quite thick, strong fingers – not the slender, delicate ones you might expect. Artists often do have those sturdy, practical hands, have you noticed?

"You know Vince, this just doesn't feel natural", Howard fretted while Vince was helping him practice. "I'm not sure if I'm ever going to be able to do it".

"Only a little while ago, you couldn't walk down the street with your arm around me because it didn't feel natural", Vince reminded him. "And now you do it all the time. You didn't think you knew how to hold hands, but you worked that one out too. This will be the same".

Vince was right – not long after, he found the right spot, and Howard suddenly saw the point of it all entirely. It had come very naturally to him.

And then one night, after Howard had gone through the flat very carefully many times to see if there were hidden cameras and couldn't find any, they finally felt ready. And after Vince telling Howard he didn't need to face away from him before, he now said Howard would probably be more comfortable on his stomach for his first time, just typical really. And of course I'm going to tell you all about it, what kind of author would I be otherwise?

The only thing is, I've been spending a lot of time lately watching Rick Felcher's music documentary _Circling the Nipples, Baby_ , which I find one of the most evocative and visually challenging films of all time: a truly underappreciated gem that deserves a much higher rating on IMDb. And I've watched it so much that I think Rick Felcher's unique cinematic style may have influenced my writing, which will affect my description of Howard and Vince.

Because all I can really show you to begin with is the top of Howard's head. You can see Vince stroking his soft mocha-brown curls and kissing a bit of his neck, as he promises he will go nice and slow for Howard his first time. And as we look at the top of Vince's dark head, we can hear Howard tell Vince not to be an idiot, it's his first time too and Howard wants Vince to enjoy himself. Vince promises that he will.

And now something is happening, so it must be time to sweep away to show a tree for a bit – except it's Dalston near the High Street, and the nearest tree is a fair distance away. We have to go all the way up to a posh new housing development where the council has planted some trees that are still at the scrubby stage of their growth – the same council that Vince once said cut Howard's hair, before he relented and said it was actually him, doing it secretly in the night. And after that Howard just let Vince cut his hair during the day, since he'd been doing it anyway. The trees will probably look very nice in a few years, it takes time for things to be perfect. I can't really tell what kind of trees they are, as it's quite dark, but I think most likely elms.

That took longer than expected so we will have to hurry in order to look at the parked cars, but that's easy, there's quite a few parked on the street, you can see them lined up smoothly in a row, shining under the streetlights. Even when cars are still, you can feel the power behind them, like crouching beasts waiting to spring into life.

And now back indoors to show an extreme close-up, but I won't show you their nostrils, that really would be a bit yuck, so you can see Vince's mouth, and his lips are parted in a wordless cry, and here are Howard's eyelids, because his little brown eyes are shut tight, almost screwed up.

And now far away, many miles up in the night sky, to show them from the Moon's perspective. The same Moon who watched Vince and Howard's first kiss on the rooftop witnesses their first time together through the window, but what he makes of it I don't know. Probably not a lot, because he isn't really that bright, but he does remember it. He does have a memory for human passions, even those he can't understand or share.

***************************************************

Here is what Howard learned from his first time with Vince.

1\. He really wasn't much a screamer after all, despite what Vince had told him before. He just kept grunting the same two words over and over again, and he didn't yell out that Vince was big or beautiful or anything, he just said his name as if it was the most important word in either the English or Icelandic languages.  
2\. In fact, the fake sex had been no preparation for the real thing whatsoever, and Howard now wondered why Vince had even bothered. Porn had only helped a little bit, not that he was complaining.  
3\. As usual, Vince had been right – Howard was definitely a Boots kind of bloke. He was pretty sure that he and Vince by themselves would now be able to keep their local Boots afloat financially for many years to come.

Here is what Vince learned from his first time with Howard.

1\. He had always loved Howard's hot pumpkin arse and had checked it out many, many times, but now he was so obsessed with it he didn't think he would be able to keep his hands off it again.  
2\. Even though Vince had told Howard he would go nice and slow for his first time, after a certain point that just wasn't possible, and he'd lost all control and gone a bit mental on him. Howard didn't seem to mind, though.  
3\. If Vince had been addicted to Howard before and thought of him as a big line of coke, he now knew that Howard was a shot of pure heroin, straight into his euphoric veins. The first dose always makes you dizzy, and there was no Twelve Step Program that would ever get him off Howard now. He was hooked, line and sinker.

*************************************************

I don't know if a sex tape was ever secretly made of that night, but if it was, you can probably download it illegally or buy a bootleg copy somewhere. And I'm pretty sure it would get quite a good rating on IMDb.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell what Boots is, but feel free to imagine it encompasses whatever else you deem necessary for sex that you can get from Boots. Howard and Vince are all about safe, sane, and consensual. I know I put Howard into some mildly dubious situations previously (and he loved it, the saucy little minx), but was determined this was always going to be 100% consenting, and done at Howard's pace. Albeit with a bit of prodding from Vince. Okay, a lot of prodding.
> 
> It's Vince's first time as a top, but I don't know what other sexual experience he has or doesn't; I figure that's between him and Howard (except that he said he wasn't a virgin, whatever that means, and he knows how to kiss). From what we saw on the show, my personal view is that Vince didn't seem to have very much more sexual experience or romantic success than Howard – he attracted worshippers and rapists rather than potential partners, and his efforts to chat up the opposite sex were almost as inept as Howard's.


	10. Meet the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Vince are getting married. It's even been announced in the press and published on their website. The only trouble is, Howard still hasn't told his parents, and for some reason, he seems to really dread the thought ...

It was a Tuesday evening, and Howard and Vince were making pancakes in the kitchen of their new flat, while Rick filmed them with the assistance of One and Two.

Rick was satisfied with how it was going, because a cute couple cooking together is always a crowd-pleaser, and Vince was getting flour everywhere in a way which would look playful and amusing on film, and Howard was being very careful with the mixing, frowning in concentration, and giving rueful looks at the mess Vince was making which would help the audience identify with him, and they were using Wheeties Finest Unbleached Plain Flour, and the sponsor would be happy about that because the packet was clearly visible. Rick did a quick close-up of the logo on the packet.

As they cooked, Howard and Vince sang their pancake crimp together, Vince minced the chives finely to add to the mixture and make it come alive, and Howard flipped the pancakes with great skill on the _Flip it now, flip it good ooh_ part. Vince affectionately cupped his floury hands around Howard's bum to leave white hand prints on his cheeks – Two filmed that, knowing Rick would like it.

As they ate their pancakes, Howard explained how he had to sing that crimp while he was saving Vince's life, as Vince's white blood cells didn't remember him. This was the touching yet also dark, complex and mysterious sort of thing that Rick was interested in. Vince threw a pancake frisbee-style at Howard, and Howard stretched up and caught it neatly in his mouth like a dog, presumably defying audience expectations. It was an all round winning performance.

"Who taught you how to make pancakes, Howard?", asked Rick in his role of documentary querent.

"Oh, my mother", said Howard, slightly uncomfortable with any personal question.

"Your mom, huh?", said Rick. "I bet she's a really special person in your life".

"Er, yes. She's a ... lovely lady", said Howard repressively.

"So what did your mom say when you told her that you were getting married?".

A blank face, and silence from Howard. His eyes darted around shiftily.

"You haven't _told_ her?", Rick prodded.

"Um well, not as such. I mean it's on the website and it was published in _Hey There, Hackney!_ , so she might have seen it somewhere".

"So you told complete strangers you were getting married before you told your own _mother_?", Rick continued, trying to sound non-judgemental and failing.

"Er, I was waiting for the right time", said Howard lamely.

"Seriously Howard, you should have told your parents by now", said Vince as he finished a huge mouthful of pancake.

"So you've told _your_ mom and dad then, Vince?", Rick asked.

"Well my parents abandoned me in a forest when I was three", explained Vince, "and I don't know where they are. My foster-father Bryan Ferry is in Brazil at the moment, doing a massive concert tour in support of the Amazon rainforest, but I'll tell him once he's back home".

"Howard dear boy, wouldn't it be swell if we could get the moment you tell your parents about marrying Vince on film?", said Rick, just talking to Howard normally now and no longer as part of the documentary.

Howard went white.

"Oh I don't know how they'd go with being filmed", he said.

"I think they'd love it", Rick said firmly. "I can see it now – the joy on their faces, tears of happiness flowing. It will be just peachy, dear boy. And Vince sugarpie, we can film you and Howard with Bryan as soon as he's back from Brazil".

"Whatever", said Vince, eating more pancakes.

"So Howard my dear boy, what do you say?", Rick smiled.

Howard looked at the camera that One was holding, and held up the cup he was drinking from.

"Mm Java Junk instant coffee", said Howard with false enthusiasm. "It goes down so smoothly with pancakes. It's the only coffee I ever drink".

He sipped from the cup, and being a great actor, he totally nailed it. 

*************************************************

"This is going to be a complete disaster", groused Howard on the day his parents were due to visit for the wedding announcement.

"Don't be a berk Howard, Rose and Percy will be fine", said Vince as he came out of the bedroom where he'd been getting dressed.

Howard stared at him.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Vince?", he demanded, because he'd seen Vince in a dizzying array of outfits, but never one like this.

Vince was wearing jeans – not skin-tight jeans, but just ordinary blue denim men's ones – a black and white striped tee-shirt, black jacket, and trainers. He didn't have any make-up on, and his hair was completely free of product, straightening, or back-brushing. He looked like a great many other attractive men with longish dark hair in their early thirties.

"Why, did you think I was going to embarrass you by turning up to have lunch with your parents in a red leather Joan Jett jumpsuit and silver knee boots?", said Vince.

"Uh, yes", admitted Howard.

"Rose and Percy haven't seen me since I went away to college", explained Vince. "They probably still see me as a football-playing teenager, so I thought I'd tone it down a bit. What do you think?".

"Great. You look very handsome", said Howard.

Howard kept staring at Vince. He looked like Vince, but at the same time, not like Vince. His hair fell around his face more softly, almost messily; his nose somehow seemed more prominent; and his skin was pinker. He didn't look as thin either: the jeans and jacket gave him more bulk.

"You've never called me handsome before", said Vince. "You always say I'm beautiful".

"You're very handsome as well", said Howard.

He put his arms around Vince, and nuzzled against his cheek, having the weirdest feeling he'd just embraced a stranger. There was something oddly exciting about it that made him kiss Vince's neck, and run his hands down to feel his bum in the blue jeans. It felt different, but still good. Really good. He had to stop himself, because he didn't want to greet his parents with a hard-on.

"Glad you like me in man drag", said Vince with a wry smile. "I got you some new clothes too – go put them on". He held out a pair of black trousers and a dark grey shirt with thin black stripes down it.

"Parent-pleasing clobber?", Howard enquired.

"Yeah, you'll look dead respectable", Vince said. "Like an insurance clerk".

"Thanks for this Vince", said Howard. "But us wearing different clothes isn't going to change the fact that it's all going to go badly".

"Bollocks", said Vince. "What will go wrong?".

"Just the usual. Me and Dad will end up in a fight like we always do, and Mum will humiliate me. I know she means well, but she doesn't seem to realise I'm not a child any more".

"Oh poor Howard, how terrible for you having parents", said Vince sarcastically. "If only you were lucky like me and got abandoned in a forest as a toddler, then your life would be great".

"I didn't mean to make you feel like that", said Howard guiltily.

"You know, all this _Poor me, my life is so awful, I'm so unlucky_ thing you always do Howard?", said Vince. "Did you ever think that maybe you're just a big drama queen and your life is actually completely fine?".

Howard didn't answer. He went to get dressed, wondering if Vince was right. He usually was, after all.

************************************************

Howard had warned his parents over the phone that he and Vince were being filmed for a music documentary, and they'd seemed quite impressed, assuring him they didn't mind being filmed.

"We'll be part of music history", his mother had said. And his dad had shouted from the background that he'd been in a crowd scene from _It's Trad, Dad!_ when he was a teenager, was already part of music history, and would be happy to give the director some pointers.

Howard's mum had said, "Oh for goodness sake, you were on screen for two seconds and all you can see is the back of your head", before telling Howard they would love to come down to London for the weekend and have lunch with he and Vince.

Rick had the camera crew ready to begin filming as soon as Howard opened the door. A petite little lady with brown hair and bright blue Highland eyes, looking far too young and pretty to be Howard's mother, immediately launched herself at Howard, and hugged him tight around the middle.

"Howie darling, how good to see you!", Rose cried. "How is my precious Howie?". She still had the faintest trace of a Scottish burr in her voice.

"Mum, geroff me", said an embarrassed Howard, trying to push her away.

"Don't be silly Howie, give your mummy a kiss", said Rose.

Howard reluctantly kissed his mother on her cheek. God, it was the first day of school all over again – only this time it would be captured on film forever. When would she learn he wasn't four years old any more?

Howard's dad Percy entered after his wife. He was an older version of Howard, and just as Rose seemed much younger than her age, Percy was prematurely white haired and looked older than his, so that the age gap between the two of them appeared greater than it really was.

He greeted Howard with more restraint, and gave Vince a loose one-armed hug when the latter tried to shake his hand in a manly way.

"And Vincie darling!", cried Rose, throwing her arms around him. "Goodness, haven't you grown up to be so handsome!".

She stretched up to kiss him on each cheek, which Vince returned with affection. He couldn't remember any mother, and Rose was the closest thing to one he had ever had.

"What about me?", demanded Howard irritably. "How come only Vince is handsome?".

"Oh Howie you're so silly", said Rose. "You don't like to me to be nice to you, but you get jealous if I'm nice to someone else".

Howard and Vince showed Percy and Rose around their flat, which had been redecorated by the designer Rick hired. This meant it now had lots of brightly coloured throw rugs, an astounding multitude of cushions which meant you couldn't sit down anywhere without tossing them on the floor, and big generic-looking abstract art prints on the walls that Vince was very scornful of.

"Oh and ... er ... well ... Vince and I are a couple now, Mum and Dad", Howard managed to get out just before they got to the bedroom.

"A couple of whats?", asked Percy drily.

"Percy's joking", said Rose, giving her husband a not-funny frown. She took Howard's hand, and said, "Haven't you been together a long time?".

"Who told you?", asked Howard in surprise.

"Word gets around", said Rose vaguely. "And we just sort of ... assumed, I suppose. I mean, you've been living together for years". She held Vince's hand too, as if worried he might feel left out.

Howard felt rather deflated by this, and Vince gave him an amused look that he had once again worried himself to bits over nothing.

They all went and sat down at the table, where One and Two had helpfully laid out the cold lunch before blending seamlessly into the background so they could be ignored. Rick communicated with the crew by hand signals in order that an illusion of privacy be maintained, and gave a little shake of his head when Rose attempted to include him.

Vince sat next to Percy, and immediately engaged him in an animated conversation about football. Howard half-listened every once in a while, and was surprised at the knowledge Vince seemed to have amassed about the history and fortunes of Leeds United.

Rose sat as close to Howard as she could, and entered into a lengthy investigation as to whether a lifestyle as a musician was really that healthy for him. Was he eating properly? Did he drink too much? Had anyone ever offered him any drugs? Did he only perform in smoke-free venues?

"And I hope you're not staying out in clubs and bars too late at night Howie darling; you know that you get very grumpy if you don't have enough sleep".

Howard could hardly tell her that if he got grumpy, Vince was usually there to relieve him of it, and what he had really needed all this time wasn't hours of sleep, but hours of Vince. It was when Rose began asking if he had enough clean underwear that Howard thought he really couldn't stand another minute, and decided to irrevocably change the topic of conversation.

"Uh Mum, Dad – Vince and I have some news for you. We got engaged a short time ago, and are getting married in a few months".

"Oh, what a surprise!", said Rose with a guilty little start. "I mean, a really lovely surprise. Isn't this news very _surprising_ , Percy?".

"Yes very much so", said Percy with the faintest twitch of his lips. "Please imagine our faces looking staggered with amazement".

"You already know", Howard deduced. "Who told you?".

"We saw it on your website", Rose confessed. "I hope you're not cross Howie, but honestly you tell us virtually nothing in your phone calls, and we just wanted to know everything was alright".

"You saw the website?", Howard asked, his face blanched in horror.

"Yes and it's a very nice website darling, very sweet. The photos of your stage costumes are really fun".

"I make all the costumes", said Vince.

"Very good. A man should have a practical skill, I always say", Percy said.

"You didn't look at any other photos did you? Er, ones where we're not wearing most of our costumes?", asked a worried Howard.

"If you mean ones without your shirts on, for goodness sake Howard! Remember that family holiday in the Hebrides where we all went swimming in the nude? A shirtless photo is nothing".

"I was five then, Mum! And I've been trying to block that memory out! Not least because the water was freezing!".

"And when your father and I were on our honeymoon in Greece, we hardly ever wore clothes", continued Rose blithely. "The photos were lovely anyway - I even left some comments on them".

"Oh no", groaned Howard.

"Yes, I wrote _Howard is very nice boy_ , and under a picture of you and Vince I wrote, _Howard and Vince look so happy together_ ", Rose beamed.

"You're redmoonrising316?", asked Vince with interest.

"Yes – you see Rose Moon, red moon. Like _roses are red_ , although they're quite often pink or yellow or white instead, aren't they?", Rose explained.

"So what do you think of our website, Perce?", grinned Vince.

"Looks like it was done by a teenage halfwit", was Percy's opinion.

"That was a deliberate design choice", said Vince solemnly, quoting Leroy.

"I did like the pretty doves and wedding bells you had, but then you took them down again", complained Rose.

"It gave people seizures", Howard said sourly.

"Bloody near gave _me_ a seizure", said Percy. He and Howard shared a complicit look of being the only sane people in the room for a moment.

"Well I'm sorry I let you find out that way, that we're getting married", said Howard. "It was ... a bit of a rush when we got engaged, and all sorts of other things happened, and I'm afraid I just let it slide".

"We're not _angry_ with you", Rose said, "but we did worry that you weren't telling us because you thought we'd be unhappy about the news".

"Well ... perhaps a bit", said Howard. "I thought you might think it was a bit strange, me marrying Vince, because we've been friends for so long".

"What's strange about marrying your best friend?", asked Percy with a frown.

"Oh I don't know ... I thought you might think of Vince as being like my brother or something", said Howard awkwardly.

"Goodness you can be so silly, Howie darling", said Rose. "I swear you will find some reason to worry about absolutely anything. I hope you can put up with him Vincie darling, when he gets these funny ideas".

"I'll give it a go", grinned Vince.

Howard brought out some champagne (he had firmly vetoed Vince's suggestion of more canned pink flirtini), and the film crew departed, Rick looking very disappointed that he hadn't seen any joyful tears flowing. It was that damn English stiff upper lip, he decided. And internet searches – between the two his lovely scene had been ruined. He blamed Howard for this.

There were toasts, and belated congratulations to Howard and Vince on their upcoming nuptials.

"I hope you take marriage a bit more seriously than other things in your life, Howard", said Percy sternly. "You can't just put it aside when you get bored like everything else".

"What do you mean?", asked Howard indignantly, as his life hardly seemed the frivolous jape his dad apparently thought it was.

"You dropped out of college, you quit being a bin man and a sanitation inspector after only a week, you didn't stick with being a zookeeper", listed off Percy. "You didn't stay with the jazz band, gave up acting after a fortnight, and you never did become an explorer like you said you would".

Howard looked outraged. "That's not the same thing", was all he managed to get out.

"Just don't treat Vince like another of your pet projects, that's all I'm saying, Howard", went on Percy. "Vince has been let down by a lot of people and hasn't had a lot of stability in his life – he doesn't deserve to be messed around by you".

Howard wanted to argue. Except ... he _had_ messed Vince around, hadn't he? Made him wait years to be in a relationship. Given him all sorts of mixed signals. Broken his heart a thousand times. Never listened properly when Vince tried to tell him how he felt. Had only proposed because his hand was forced. Had considered leaving Vince rather than marry him. Had almost broken up with Vince as soon as they had their first serious fight. Hadn't even bothered telling his parents he was marrying Vince. All he could do was hang his head and feel deeply ashamed of his behaviour.

"It's okay Perce", Vince said. "Even before Howard and I were a couple, he promised me that we would be together forever, and that he'd never leave me. He's stuck with me and stood by me as a friend, and then as my boyfriend and my fiance, and I know he will as my husband too". He leaned over and took Howard's hand in his.

"I'll try to treat Vince the way he deserves, Dad", Howard finally said. "I know I'm not good enough for him, but for some reason he seems to love me anyway".

"Oh Percy, stop going _on_ at Howard", said Rose, looking upset. "Can't you see he adores Vince and isn't going to treat him badly?".

"Sorry Howard", said Percy stiffly. "I just want you to understand what a responsibility marriage is, that's all. It's a father's duty to tell his son these things".

"Howie darling, do you remember your favourite book when you were four?", asked Rose, with the air of someone determinedly changing the subject to something more pleasant.

"Not really, no", said Howard, not hopeful this conversation would be better than the last.

"It was _Winnie-the-Pooh_ ", said Rose fondly. "You loved hearing about Pooh and Piglet. And I always hoped my sweet Howie bear would find a little friend to be his Piglet, because you had trouble making friends – you were so funny and shy with people. And then you met Vince at boarding school, and I thought that my little Pooh Bear had finally found his wee Piglet".

"Mum, I was eleven by then; I was far too old to be compared to a toy bear!", said Howard.

"Oh you boys were so sweet together", said Rose. "Do you know, once I tiptoed in to check on you and Vince because you were spending the night on the floor of Daddy's study, playing camping? And what did I find but both of you fast asleep in your sleeping bags, holding hands?".

"Thanks for sharing that embarrassingly personal story, Mum", said Howard, while Vince giggled and Percy looked rather taken aback at what they had done on his study floor. In his day, camping had been taken very seriously, and there wasn't any hand holding involved. Unless you were on your honeymoon.

"And now you're getting married", Rose continued happily. "I always thought Pooh Bear and Piglet would get married one day, they were so close, and now you will be just like them. Except two men, and Pooh and Piglet were a boy and a girl".

"No Mum, Piglet was a boy", said Howard in exasperation.

"Really? But Piglet was much smaller than Pooh, and wore pink, and was always frightened", Rose said doubtfully. "I thought Piglet was a girl. But anyway that's even better isn't it? Now my Howie Pooh can finally have his sweet little Vincie Piglet forever".

Rose hugged Howard close in a bliss of motherly love, and tickled his round Pooh Bear tummy while Howard ineffectually tried to push her away.

"Rose, stop pawing at the boy", Percy snapped. "No wonder he turned out to be _that_ sort of person".

" _What_ sort of person?", asked Rose haughtily, two bright angry red spots on her cheeks.

"The sort of person who hates being touched!", said Percy. "He's always been scared to let anyone touch him or get close, because he's frightened that if he lets them near, they'll smother him half to death like you do!".

Rose burst into tears. Howard patted her on the back, remembering how Vince had cheered Bollo up doing that. Hopefully mothers and gorillas had enough in common it would work on her too.

"Thanks Dad", said Howard, "but I got over that. I know I was stupid about letting people touch me before, but I'm with Vince now, and I let him touch me anywhere he wants, all over my body, and I love it, and I love touching Vince all over too".

"Steady on Howard, you're over-sharing now", said Vince. "Er, you should probably stop listening Perce, just in case Howard goes into any more detail".

"And Mum, you didn't do anything wrong", said Howard. "In fact, I think I've picked someone to be my husband who's affectionate like you, someone who likes kissing and touching".

"Again, please don't listen to this, Perce", advised Vince. "He's had too much champagne".

"Oh Howie darling", said Rose, wiping her eyes, "what a sweet thing to say to Mummy. And Vincie has blue eyes like me as well".

Howard urged her not to say any more things that she and Vince shared in common physically or he would have to divorce Vince before they even got married, and Rose told him not to be so silly, everyone knows it's perfectly normal to marry someone who looks just like your mother, and Howard stuck his fingers in his ears so he didn't have to listen to any more. He went to his happy place, where the stationery was well-organised and soothing jazz played in the background.

"You mustn't think that Rose and I don't care for each other", Percy said quietly to Vince. "I know we snipe at each other and drive each other mad half the time, but the other half makes up for it".

"Oh I understand", Vince assured him. "The arguing, the bickering – it's a sign of the deep, powerful, molten sexual tension brewing between you".

"You cheeky bugger", Percy said half-admiringly. "Not saying you're wrong, mind".

************************************************

Howard and Vince were sitting on the sofa together, Rose and Percy having left with promises to come back the next morning for a bit of sightseeing with them before they caught the train home. Howard was enjoying having his arms around this new Vince, who was so familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar at the same time.

"See, you were worried about nothing as usual", Vince said. "Like I said, Percy and Rose were fine".

"What do you mean? Mum humiliated me just like I said, even dragged out that story about us holding hands in our sleep, and Dad and I had our usual fight, right at the end".

"What fight?", asked Vince.

"The usual one about whether Miles Davis or John Coltrane is better", said Howard.

"You like Miles Davis", Vince pointed out. "Why do you argue about that?".

"Because John Coltrane really is better", explained Howard.

"You and your dad both like Charles Mingus the same – why don't you talk about him instead?".

"After we both said we like him, there'd be nothing else to say".

"I think people who agree with each other must argue more and have worse arguments than people who disagree with each other", said Vince. Which I think is the cleverest thing Vince ever said in his life, but Howard didn't pay it any attention.

"Thanks for being so good with Dad", Howard said, kissing Vince. "I know he can be a bit prickly and difficult sometimes, but you're very patient with him. He really likes you, you know".

"Somehow I seem to be used to prickly, difficult men", said Vince. "And I absolutely love your dad – I quite fancy him, actually".

"You're not allowed to fancy my _dad_!", said Howard, looking shocked.

"Why wouldn't I fancy your dad? He looks just like you, except older", said Vince. "I hope your hair goes white like his too – it's very sexy".

"He claims it's being a Geography teacher that's sent his hair white", said Howard.

"I even fancied him when I was a kid", said Vince. "He looked exactly the way you do now. I loved it whenever your dad came to tuck us into bed and kiss us goodnight; half the time I got a stiffy".

"Is there some way my memory of the last few minutes can be erased?", asked Howard faintly. "Could Naboo do something, do you think?".

"I think I probably fancy all Moon men", mused Vince. "Because your Uncle Cedric was really handsome, I had a big crush on him between the ages of twelve and fifteen".

"Uncle Cedric _died_ when we were fifteen", Howard said angrily.

"Yeah well that kind of ended the crush for me", admitted Vince. "If you'd had brothers, or cousins on the Moon side, I probably would have fancied them too".

"I've never been so happy to be an only child", said Howard sincerely. "And Uncle Cedric didn't have children: he died quite young".

"Do you have any photos of your grandfather?", asked Vince.

"This is just sick now, Vince", said Howard. "What are you going to do, wank off to a photo of Grandpa?".

"No, I wanted to see what you'd look like when you were old", said Vince in a hurt tone. "I bet he's still really good-looking".

"Nana says he's getting a bit forgetful now", Howard said.

"I don't mind if you get forgetful when you're old, Howard", Vince said. "I could bum you, then convince you I hadn't done it yet, and bum you again".

"You stupid tit, you can bum me twice _now_ if you want to", said Howard. "You don't have to wait until I'm old to do that".

"Genius", said Vince, beginning to unbutton Howard's shirt. He was getting a bit tired of Howard looking respectable.

Howard was discovering that Vince's jeans were so loose that he could almost get his whole hand down them without even unzipping them, and thought what a wonderful design feature that was.

"You seem to like me wearing ordinary men's clothes", said Vince, as he caressed Howard's chest. "Would you like me to dress like this all the time?".

"Don't mind", muttered Howard. "You look great in everything. Wear whatever you like".

Although right now, Howard felt that the time for clothes was pretty much over.

*************************************************

The following weekend, Bryan Ferry was back from Brazil, and came over for a strict vegetarian lunch with them so Rick and the crew could film Vince telling his foster-father he was going to marry Howard.

Howard didn't really approve of Bryan Ferry, and thought his tenure as foster-father should definitely be over by now. He considered it very fishy that Bryan had chosen to keep a small child he found in the forest rather than hand him over to the correct authorities, and thought Bryan had neglected Vince shamefully while he was growing up. Away on tour half the time, and he'd stuck Vince in boarding school once he turned eleven; Vince had spent all his school holidays with the Moon family in Leeds, seeing Bryan Ferry only on odd weekends after that

"Howard and I are getting married in a bit", Vince told him, while they nibbled on nuts and berries.

"Well of course Vince, my child", said Bryan Ferry. "I knew from the first day you met Howard that the two of you would eventually marry. It's taken longer than I thought it would, to be honest".

"How could you possibly know that?", said Howard, trying not to sound irritated. Bryan Ferry was going to be his father-in-law soon, so Howard had to start learning to get along with him better.

"Because Vince saved your life", said Bryan Ferry. "It is the Law of the Forest: you only save those you love, and for Vince to choose to save you meant that he had already given you his heart".

"I think you're being a trifle over-dramatic there Bryan", said Howard. "My life wasn't exactly in danger".

"He went to your rescue", persisted Bryan Ferry. "Who knows what that boy could have done to you if Vince hadn't intervened?".

"Probably just punched and kicked me or something", said Howard. "I wouldn't have died".

"Vince didn't know that", said Bryan Ferry triumphantly. "He went to your rescue believing you to be in mortal danger. As such, I knew that he was in love with you, and I told him so".

"I didn't really understand what you were going on about though, Bryan", said Vince. "I mean, I'd just met Howard that day, and we were only kids".

"Of course, my child. You were too young. I told you it would take many years before you would be able to understand this great mystery of love", said Bryan Ferry smugly. "And now you have".

Flipping heck Bryan Ferry was an annoying git, Howard thought to himself.

*************************************************

"You do know Bryan isn't the real Bryan Ferry, right?", said Howard after Bryan Ferry had left. "I mean he doesn't even look like Bryan Ferry – he looks more like Terry Wogan. And he's got a fake African accent for some reason. And blue eyebrows. And he lives in a forest".

"Look Howard, if someone feels that deep down they are Bryan Ferry, and have surgery to resemble Bryan Ferry more closely, and dress as Bryan Ferry, and give concert tours under the name Bryan Ferry, then I think we should support their choices and just accept them as Bryan Ferry", said Vince. "Be a bit more broadminded, Howard".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tendency in fanfic to give Howard rather horrible parents – I presume with the idea that his various issues must be due to parental abuse. But apart from not being amusing in a comedy, it didn't feel true to life. So I gave him what I hope seem like plausibly flawed parents, without them being monsters: because even normal parents can still be embarrassing and give you issues (especially for sensitive types like Howard). I must stress Rose and Percy are not in any way even remotely based on Julian's parents! 
> 
> Rose and Percy both have names connected with the north of England – Rose is from The War of the Roses; besides, Rose Moon sounds so motherly. Percy has the same name as one of the great noble houses of the north of England; the Percy family were Earls, and later Dukes, of Northumberland. (Howard's name is also that of a noble house – the Howard family were Dukes of Norfolk, with important branches in the north of England). 
> 
> I've never before based an original character on a real person, but in the case of Rose I made an exception – she's a cross between two mothers I know. Plus an inversion of the stereotype of Scottish people being dour and unemotional, and I figured that if Vince is correct that people can only love Howard by going a bit wrong, then even loving Howard in a non-romantic way, such as a mother's love, would end up being slightly obsessive and over-the-top. 
> 
> Howard's Uncle Cedric was mentioned on the radio show as being exceptionally handsome, which Vince seemed fascinated and excited by. Howard indicated that he suffered some terrible nameless fate due to his good looks – it sounded like something he made up on the spot to annoy Vince, so I just killed him off young. I pictured Uncle Cedric being significantly younger than Percy, and perhaps around ten to twelve years older than Howard and Vince. 
> 
> As Bryan Ferry supposedly knew Vince and Howard would be married from the day they met at school, same sex marriage must have been legal since at least the 1980s in their universe. I never came up with a timeline, but the 1960s and '70s as a point of legislative change seems reasonable to me – possibly under Harold Wilson, who in our universe, led the government which (partially) decriminalised homosexual acts between men: female homosexual acts apparently not being worth the time to ever make illegal.


	11. The Wedding Plan Pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fun chapter describing the wedding plans, and ending with Howard's birthday and how they celebrated it. For some reason, I chose this silly chapter to highlight all the most serious themes of the story, although you don't have to pay them any attention, and probably shouldn't.

Howard and Vince were sitting on the sofa in their flat while Rick interviewed them for the documentary. Howard was sitting bolt upright and looking serious, as if he was going for a job, and Vince was cuddled up close to Howard, gazing at him rather than at the camera.

"Howard dear boy, could you relax just a teensy bit?", asked Rick. "Don't be afraid to give Vince a little affection – remember, this is an incredible love story we're trying to show people here".

Howard unbent, and sat so that he was slightly turned towards Vince, taking his hand.

"Better. And Vince snookums, look towards the camera so everyone can see your pretty face – don't push it into Howard's shoulder".

After he was happy with them, Rick got them to describe the night they became engaged. They gave a highly edited account, leaving out the crucial visit from Lance and Harold, Howard having a meltdown from sexual frustration, the text to Leroy, the massive fight they immediately had, and Howard storming out to wander the streets of Dalston, getting a case of very cold feet and seriously considering whether to leave Vince rather than marry him.

Omitting these pivotal events, it made a rather charming little story, with both of them proposing to each other, eating jam on toast and drinking canned flirtini at a candlelit dinner complete with lilacs, and Howard surprising Vince with a diamond ring he had only just bought that fit perfectly.

Vince whispered in Howard's ear that perhaps they should tell the audience about the bath they took together, and Howard replied very strongly in the negative. Vince sighed that it had been one of the best things about their engagement night, so it was a shame to leave it out.

"And how are the wedding plans going, guys?", asked Rick.

Howard and Vince both stared blankly at him, then stared at each other – at first in guilt and confusion, then with a certain amount of accusation.

"Er, I thought wedding planning was really for the Vince-type person in the relationship", said Howard. "I assumed he was doing it".

"And by the Vince-type person, you mean it's the _girl's_ job, don't you?", said Vince angrily. "Because that is not only sexist, but a big pile of bollocks, because if anyone is the girl it's you!".

"No I did _not_ mean it's the girl's job", huffed Howard. "I meant that as a fashion expert, artist, designer, and costumier, you would be the person best qualified to handle most aspects of wedding planning. And no way am I the girl – I've got a bloody moustache!".

"You do nearly all the cooking", countered Vince, "so wouldn't you be the one best able to organise catering? I barely even eat food. And you do most of the cleaning and washing as well, so if anyone is the girl in this relationship, I think you'll find it's you".

"That's ridiculous – as if cooking, cleaning, and washing are female jobs. Most chefs, caretakers, and drycleaners are men", retorted Howard.

"You cry more than me", said Vince spitefully.

"The only reason you don't cry is because it would smudge your make-up", snapped Howard.

They started having a slap fight on the sofa, which looked as if it might end in hair-pulling and name-calling.

"Guys, can you stop fighting over which one of you is the girl?", pleaded Rick. "I can't use any of this footage; it will offend most of the target audience. And you're _both_ the girl in the relationship".

Howard and Vince glared at him. Because quite clearly neither of them was a girl, and they were both very manly men who just happened to enjoy fashion, cooking, make-up, housework, and hairdressing, nagged each other, weren't afraid to cry, and tended to get into bitchy slap fights when annoyed. It was all very butch and rugged stuff going on here, and Rick could just shut the fuck up.

"Look I'm sorry Vince", began Howard. "I didn't mean any of that – it's just that you organise our shows, do the stage design, and make the costumes. You like making everything look beautiful and perfect. I just naturally thought you would enjoy doing the wedding as well".

"What, on top of everything else?", said Vince indignantly. "You were the one who said he'd been dreaming of getting married all his life, and wanted everything to be romantic and magical. I thought that meant you were organising the wedding – because you cared more about it".

"No, I only cared about the proposal", said Howard. "I thought proposing and buying the ring was my job, then I'd step back and let you take over".

"Are you joking? Look what a mess I made of the engagement – we ate jam on toast and listened to Suzi Quatro! I nearly set fire to the flat, and I nicked the flowers from the park and stuffed them in a jar! How can you possibly think I have any ability to organise an entire wedding?", ranted Vince.

"You only had a couple of hours to do that, and I enjoyed proposing to _Can the Can_ ", said Howard.

"And what about your funeral – remember what a disaster I made of that?", went on Vince. "Oh wait: you were dead, maybe you don't know".

"No I did see it", Howard said. "I was there in spirit. And yeah it was pretty bad, but I assumed you were grieving so much for me that you couldn't think straight".

"Wait – what do you mean he was _dead_?", asked Rick.

"Howard died by mistake years ago", Vince said impatiently. "He was sentenced to Monkey Hell for fox bumming, which he claims never happened, but I rescued him and brought him back to life".

"Well ain't that a kick in the hootenanny", said a flabbergasted Rick.

"Howard, the truth is you're much better at organising things than I am", said Vince. "You pretty much handle anything practical. It's just obvious you're the one who should be planning the wedding".

The two of them continued bickering about it for the rest of the evening, Rick giving up on doing any more filming until Vince and Howard got their act together. That night they went to bed in a sulk, sleeping with their backs turned to each other. (And chucking a massive sulk is definitely a very masculine thing to do, no doubt about that at all).

**************************************************

The next morning, Naboo came into the shop and found Howard re-organising Stationery Village in an aggressive way, and Vince reading a magazine, flicking the pages with venom. They had their faces studiously turned away from each other, and even someone who couldn't read minds would be able to tell they'd recently quarelled.

"What's up with you two ballbags?", Naboo enquired.

"There was a bit of a misunderstanding over the wedding", said Howard. "We each thought the other one was organising it".

"Yeah so nothing's been sorted", said Vince. "It's a complete cock up".

"Look you ballbags, you just need a wedding planner, yeah?", said Naboo.

"The thing is, I think we might have left it a bit late to have it done by September", said Howard.

"I know a shaman who can do it", said Naboo surprisingly. "Time and space mean nothing to shamans, yeah?".

Howard felt very uncertain about letting a shaman handle their wedding – the thought of Kirk or Tony Harrison being involved brought on a serious case of the cold dreads.

"Er, I'm not sure if a shaman is a good idea", said Howard worriedly. "Um, all the drinking and drugs ... and debauchery ... and the, er tentacles and such ...".

"Relax, ballbag", said Naboo. "It's a female shaman – they're different to us blokes. They don't seem to want to drink or party or have much of a good time at all. Her name's Janet. And she doesn't have tentacles".

"Are you sure she's up to the job?", Vince asked.

"Yeah 'course. Female shamans are ... more powerful than male ones". Naboo didn't seem to like admitting that fact.

"Maybe they're more powerful because they're not drunk and high all the time?", suggested Howard.

"Yeah maybe. Who could be bothered sobering up long enough to find out?", replied Naboo.

"Will she agree to help us?", asked Vince. In his experience, shamans were pretty arrogant, and didn't have much patience with anyone else, even other shamans.

"Yeah don't worry, she likes ballbags like you two", said Naboo scornfully, clearly responding to Vince's thoughts more than his words.

Howard and Vince wondered what that meant. Did it mean that Janet got along well with musicians, or had more experience planning weddings between two men, or something else?

"Anyway, here's her card", said Naboo, producing it from thin air.

Howard and Vince both craned to read it. It said PLANET JANET in bold capitals, and then underneath in smaller letters: _There's a wedding in my heart and you plan it, Janet_. There was nothing else – no decoration, or even contact details.

"Blow on the card, and she'll knock on your door", said Naboo, handing Howard the card. "Go home and take the rest of the day off to sort out your wedding, ballbags. Bollo and I will handle things here".

This was a real surprise – Naboo had never given them the day off work before; he didn't even believe in letting them have loo breaks.

"Wow thanks, Naboo", said Vince. "You're the best".

"We're very grateful", said Howard. He wanted to hug Naboo for giving them this sort of help, but remembered that not everyone likes being touched, so he refrained.

"You ballbags can make it up by working all weekend, sorting out the stock room", said Naboo with a superior little smile.

Because he might have been their friend and a decent boss, but he was still a shaman. And they are very practical creatures.

**************************************************

On their way back to the flat, Howard and Vince wondered what Janet would look like. She didn't have tentacles like Tony Harrison; maybe she would have green skin like Diane, the only female member of the Shaman Council (and they now discovered, the most powerful). Would she be very small like Naboo, or curly-haired like Saboo? Perhaps she would be a female version of Dennis, large and swaggering, or a child like Kirk.

Now they thought about it, shamans were a fairly diverse lot physically, and it didn't seem possible to guess what Janet would look like. She might not even be human in appearance – Naboo said she didn't have tentacles, but she could have horns or flippers instead.

"Maybe Janet will just be a wave of energy, and come at us like a beam of light", Howard speculated over-excitedly.

So they thought they had prepared themselves for any eventuality. However, when Howard blew on Janet's card and they opened the door to her knock, they both immediately leapt backwards and screamed. (They were very manly screams, I would like to point out – nothing high-pitched or girlish about them: good, solid, masculine screams.)

Janet's appearance was not in any way fearsome. She looked like a tall, fair, slender woman with long golden hair and large dark green eyes – quite beautiful really, in an ethereal, elfin sort of way.

It wasn't any of that which had made Howard and Vince scream. It was the fact that Janet was dressed in long unbleached calico robes, had a daisy painted on one cheek, and wore a wreath of roses in her hair – all signs that pointed to her having joined the Yeti cult.

"Do not be afraid", Janet said in a dreamy, ethereal voice. "I am Janet, and you are Vince and Howard". She looked at Vince when she said this, as if getting their names from his mind.

Vince and Howard still looked very nervous.

"I sense that you fear the Yeti, my brothers", Janet murmured soothingly. "This is an error. They are a gentle folk, with much to teach us about the workings of the universe".

"They kidnapped Howard", Vince objected. "Then they brainwashed all of us. They ended up raping the man whose cabin we stayed in".

Janet smiled as if kidnap, brainwashing, and rape were simply amusing misunderstandings.

"They only sought loving congress with you, my brothers", she said. "And should you have submitted to their love, as I did, your minds and spirits would have been opened to untold peace and harmony".

"But why would the Yeti have mated with you?", asked Howard. "They need males to breed".

"And why then do you and Vince mate?", asked Janet with a smile. "For neither can you breed together in the manner of your choosing. Yet it is still a pleasure and a way to share love, is it not?".

"That's different – we're the same species, at least", said an embarrassed Howard.

"All life is one, all love is one", said Janet in an even more ethereal voice.

"Settle down, Bob Marley", said Howard jeeringly.

"I have evolved beyond species", continued Janet, ignoring him. "I have evolved beyond male and female, beyond plant and animal and mineral. The Yeti and I are as one. The forest and I are as one. The planets and I are as one".

"You're a real genre-spanner, aren't you?", said Howard with grudging respect. "I mean, you see a boundary, you eat a boundary".

"I have evolved beyond genres and boundaries, beyond space and time", said Janet, now sounding so ethereal her voice was barely audible.

"Ooh now, don't go down the age is just a number route, or you'll end up on living on an island with a young Indian boy", warned Vince.

"I don't understand", said Janet. "For the shaman Kirk from the fourth dimension is but a child, yet he is the most sexually depraved being in the universe".

"Yeah well, shamans and humans are different", said Vince.

"Of course!", said Janet, looking shocked. "There can be no comparison".

"So you haven't evolved beyond human and shaman then?", asked Howard.

"It would never do to say humans and shamans are equal", said Janet firmly, not sounding very ethereal any more. "I mean don't misunderstand me, I'm very pro-human ... you humans have a fascinating and rich culture ... some of my best friends are human".

They were rather relieved that Janet's apparently boundless tolerance did have a limit after all. And after she stopped wittering on about universal peace and love, and trying to interest them in taking a pamphlet on joining the Yeti cult, her slightly nutty head turned out to be screwed on pretty much the right way. Right enough to be a wedding planner, at least.

"Now Vince, do you have any wedding plans at all?", asked Janet."Just something you could put down on paper for me".

Vince thought for a few minutes, then quickly drew a red pony with a yellow mane and tail, wearing ankle boots.

"Very _good_ , Vince", said Janet, like a kindergarten teacher with a slightly backward yet rather sweet kid who's really trying his best. "But what about something more like this?".

Janet drew a winged unicorn frolicking in a field of yellow daisies and blue butterflies, with a rainbow overhead.

"Lose the wings", said Vince. "And make the rainbow more sparkly. And give the unicorn a lollipop".

Janet showed him the revised wedding plan pony, which was now joyfully cantering across the page with a daisy chain around its neck and a lollipop in its mouth.

"Genius", said Vince. "Yeah, that's exactly what I want".

Janet and Vince seemed to understand each other perfectly.

"And Howard, what kind of ceremony did you have in mind?", Janet asked him. "Were you thinking a church wedding?".

"My grandparents would probably like it", said Howard after a moment's thought. His weekends in Wakefield with them had always included a church service, and he had learned to appreciate their simple, comforting faith.

"What religion are you?", asked Janet.

Howard blushed, with the hideous discomfort experienced by an Englishman when discussing religion.

"Oh just the usual boring one – Church of Brian Christ", he muttered in embarrassment.

"Nothing wrong with being CBC", said Janet in a patronising tone which suggested Howard couldn't have come up with anything more dull.

For the cult of the Reluctant Messiah, Brian Cohen, had reached the shores of Britain during the Dark Ages, despite its lacklustre missionary campaign, which tended to give converts the impression they should have stuck with something more sensible, like pottery. It quickly became the dominant religion of the land, and Henry VIII declared it the church of state, as it so perfectly suited the British temperament of very fussily not wanting a fuss made about anything, and also involved queuing up for ages to get the bread and wine, which the British soul naturally found very soothing.

Janet quickly calculated that Howard and Vince could be married in the chapel of their old college on September 1, and immediately brought the Dean of St. Caedmon's to them. The Dean was still drinking tea out of a pink floral cup when summoned, but didn't seem to resent the intrusion, asking them to please just call him Terry.

"Always very happy to have a wedding between two former students at the chapel", he beamed.

"Oh er, I didn't actually finish my degree", confessed Howard awkwardly.

"Not to worry – I dropped out of Theology in my third year after I stopped believing in God", Terry reassured him.

"And how did you regain your faith?", asked Howard.

"Never did; it seemed like a lot of old nonsense. It was explained to me that as long as I believed in Our Lord Brian and his teachings, that was all that mattered to the church hierarchy. And of course, I soon found a Higher Power I could trust in".

"Universal peace and love?", asked Janet with the quickness of a fanatic.

"No, no – county cricket", Terry corrected her. "The one true faith of England; good enough for our forefathers, and good enough for me".

Terry went on to ask Howard and Vince what kind of ceremony they would like, because Our Lord Brian had taught that we are all individuals and should do whatever we want. Howard said the usual ceremony was fine, and Terry admitted most individuals did tend to choose that option.

"And the wedding hymn?", asked Terry.

"Oh the standard one – _Always Look on the Bright Side of Life_ ", Howard said.

"Ah, a beautiful work by St. Eric the Idle", said Terry. "My personal favourite".

Having booked the chapel and dismissed the Dean, Janet turned to Vince and asked what religion he was, and if he would like elements of his faith included in the ceremony.

"I was brought up a Pantherist", said Vince.

"You mean a Pantheist", said Howard.

"No – a Pantherist. We believe in a giant blue panther who is our Holy Mother and watches over us at all times", explained Vince.

"I thought you worshipped Mick Jagger", Howard said in confusion.

"Yeah I'm a Pantherist _and_ a follower of Jagger – like your penpal Alex whose Jewish, but also a follower of Buddha".

"Alex actually gave up the Buddhism: he said all the inner peace was doing his head in", Howard said.

Vince didn't think anything needed to be added for his Pantherism, as the Holy Mother would naturally be present at the wedding to give her blessing. But he did wonder if Mick Jagger could sing the wedding hymn. Janet quickly contacted Mick Jagger's management, and was told an appearance fee by Sir Mick would cost seventy billion euros, and if they wanted to play a recording of any Rolling Stones material at the wedding, it would be ninety million euros.

Vince was very disappointed, and asked Janet to explain that he actually worshipped Mick Jagger and had a shrine to him in the bedroom. Mick Jagger's management immediately appeared in order to hit him with a cease and desist letter and confiscated the shrine, as worshipping Mick Jagger cost one hundred billion euros, and doing so without permission would be taken as spiritual stalking and harassment. So after that Vince had to be content with just being a Pantherist, because the Jaggerism had proper done his head in.

Luckily, Janet got Adam Ant on the phone, and he was extremely kind, and said he would love to perform the wedding hymn. He wouldn't charge them a fee as they were practically neighbours, only asking for an invitation to the wedding in return.

There wasn't much else for Janet to do besides sending out invitations, booking The Velvet Onion for the reception, making sure the caterer had plenty of strict vegetarian options for Bryan Ferry, and contacting Bryan Ferry to perform some of his hit songs at the reception (which made Howard grit his teeth and say how very nice of Bryan).

Leroy was to be best man (because he was the most sensible and least likely to lose the rings), and Bollo the blushing bridesmaid who would carry the bouquet of sunflowers (because otherwise he'd cry, and predict gloom and doom on the whole event).

Janet tried to convince Vince and Howard to wear unbleached calico robes and wreaths of flowers in their hair to the wedding, with no success. Vince could no longer go dressed as Adam Ant, as it would be rude to the real Adam Ant, but he and Janet came up with something together, and you will have to look at the picture they made if you would like to see it. It was even better than the wedding plan pony.

Howard had a whispered aside to Janet about the honeymoon, which he wanted to be a surprise for Vince. Janet said lucky they had a shaman as everything was booked up, but she had evolved far beyond time and space, and could nip back and book everything two years ago.

"Well I think that's it now", said Janet finally. "Blow on my card if you need anything else".

"And you didn't even need to wave a magic wand", said Vince in amazement.

"I'm a shaman, not your fairy godmother", said Janet sternly.

But really, they thought that's exactly what she was: Janet even looked like one, or at least the angel on top of a hippy Christmas tree.

"How can we ever repay you?", asked Howard.

"That will be five hundred euros", said Janet promptly. Because she might believe in universal peace and love, and be unnaturally fond of humans for one of her kind, but she was still a shaman, and they are practical creatures.

And now it was finally established beyond all doubt that neither Howard nor Vince was the girl in their relationship, because they had both been perfectly clueless about organising their own wedding, left everything to the last minute, and palmed all the work off onto a woman. There could be no greater proof of their very manly manhood.

************************************************

The following day Howard turned thirty-three. There was no Jazzercise as it was a public holiday, so Vince could wake him up with a kiss and breakfast in bed: Vince himself being an essential part of Howard's breakfast, of course. Frankly it was pretty hard for Jazzercise to compete with that.

Vince's present to Howard was a painting he had done, working in secret. It showed Vince and Howard kissing on the roof on Howard's last birthday, with the moon big and golden in the sky above them. Vince had tactfully left out Dennis and the sword – because as he said, once he began kissing Howard, Dennis had simply ceased to exist for him. Howard thought Dennis must have actually left at some point, and the painting therefore showed the roof after Dennis' departure.

Howard couldn't stop staring at the painting. Vince had painted Howard as far too handsome, Howard modestly thought, and painted himself as far too plain and peaky-looking. Vince had also depicted them as kissing with their eyes shut, but Howard knew he had kept his eyes open almost the whole time, he didn't want to stop looking at Vince for a second. Funny that – after all those shy and shifty glances, always looking away, Howard suddenly couldn't take his eyes off him.

It was strange to think that everything in Howard's life had changed after that kiss. Maybe there really had been something magical about it.

It goes without saying that the painting was the best birthday present Howard had ever received. Vince told him the present was a hint of Howard's birthday surprise. Another hint was that Vince told Howard to dress in the same clothes he had worn to his birthday party that night.

Howard wondered if Vince was going to take him up onto the roof to recreate the kiss, and when he asked, Vince giggled, and said, "Ooh, you're so close, Howard!".

But instead of walking up to the Nabootique, Vince took Howard into central London. The train had been packed, and Howard realised that of course it was a public holiday, like every year, and that Vince was taking him to the annual Pride Day parade. He couldn't help feeling disappointed, because of course Pride Day was very important, and now he and Vince would be part of it forever, but he would have preferred his birthday to be just him and Vince doing something together.

And when they arrived in the crowded square, Vince giggled and looked excited, and told him he had to go do something, and that Howard should wander around by himself and soak up the atmos. Howard felt that he had been abandoned on his birthday, in the middle of a noisy crowd that made him feel a bit stressed, just typical really. And once again, his birthday party wasn't even for him: it was for all of London to celebrate.

A familiar voice suddenly broke in on Howard's discontented thoughts.

"Oi, Howard! Get over here, you muppet!".

It was Dave from the _Hackney Gay and Lesbian News_ , covering the parade for the newspaper, and once he learned it was Howard's birthday, he said he would have to buy him a beer. Which was staggering, because men named Dave don't buy you beers: perhaps they make an exception on your birthday. But as Dave kept saying, with more and more feeling, he _liked_ Howard, he had always _said_ that he liked him. And Dave introduced Howard to his husband Mike, who despite his open trusting face, was quite sharp enough to keep up with Dave.

So after that encounter, Howard wandered through the crowd feeling a bit more relaxed, especially as Mike had also bought him a birthday beer. And then a voice on a speaker was telling everyone to assemble for the parade, and Howard didn't really know where to assemble, and where had Vince _got_ to?

Then he heard Vince calling him from high above, and Vince was on a parade float for The Mighty Boosh, made to resemble the roof top that they had kissed on – as if they could step into Vince's painting.

"Isn't this genius, Howard?", Vince yelled excitedly. "I got Janet to make it for us. She's brilliant, isn't she?".

And Howard was being helped to clamber on to the float next to Vince, perched on the roof top, and he could see everything from up here – it felt as if he could see all of London stretched out before him, every street and square, every park and monument. And every person's face seemed to be in the clearest focus, every citizen of London was here for the great day, alive with happiness. As the Lord Brian had said, they were all individuals, and as individuals often do, they were all assembled en masse to do exactly the same thing all at once.

The Shaman Council's float was next to them, because as Dennis explained, he had rethought some basic principles after watching them kiss. And Diane and Bollo were obviously gay. And as Saboo said, all these plumsticks were gay once they'd had a few drinks, and were fully aware of the crunch, and Tony Harrison shouted excitedly that that was an outrage, and Saboo was just a filthy slag – their previous sexual encounter had proven that once and for all. And Kirk would basically do it with anyone, man, woman, or goat: he'd even had a threeway with Tony and Mrs Harrison. Naboo looked rather contemptuous of the whole thing.

Then it was midday, and as the sun reached its highest point on the longest day of the year, the parade began moving down the broad street. Howard and Vince sat on their roof top, and Howard discovered what he'd thought was part of the float was actually Leroy, who was dressed as the Moon, his face covered in something that looked like shaving cream because of all the cameras that were around. He didn't feel nervous as long as his face was obscured.

Howard felt shy about kissing in front of Leroy, but Vince just grabbed him and went at it, so that for the second birthday in a row Howard was kissed on a rooftop by Vince at a party, only this time he knew how to kiss back. And instead of being under the moon they were under the sun, so that the soft silvery magic of Howard and the bright golden magic of Vince had met and come together.

And then Vince showed Howard the best bit – the bottom of the float was a bouncy castle, and they could throw themselves off the roof and do somersaults and jimmy flips and go bouncy bouncy, and have oh such a good time together. Howard dive-bombed from the roof to soar up as high as the moon (aka Leroy), Vince bouncing alongside him like a rubber ball made from sunshine. Howard didn't think it was possible to be any happier than he was at that moment.

Elliot Morgan from _Gay Left Weekly_ pointed them out to her colleague and whispered something, and they both looked sorrowful about these poor mentally-challenged men innocently reliving the very accident which had left them differently abled. It was really tragic actually, and they thought something should be done about it.

***************************************************

That night Howard and Vince found themselves at a huge after party, and Howard had more to drink than usual. He must have done, because at some point, he told someone that it was his birthday, and amidst the flurry of congratulations and birthday wishes, and even one or two kisses on his cheek, somebody called out, "Speech, speech! Birthday speech from Howard Moon!".

And Howard stepped forward to address a big crowd of strangers, and he must have drunk quite a lot because he didn't feel one bit nervous.

"Friends, thank you for coming today. Because it's not just my birthday, this is a day for all of us". There was a ragged cheer. "Today, I turn thirty-three years old - ".

"That's fifty-five in gay years!", yelled an anonymous wit at the back, and Howard smiled, waiting for the laughter to subside.

"There was another birthday that changed my life", Howard said. "I remember sitting on the roof, when the most beautiful person in the world unexpectedly kissed me in the moonlight – my first ever kiss".

"Wooh!", shouted a drunk.

"And at that moment, I knew I loved him and had always loved him. My best friend and my dearest companion – Vince Noir".

There were a few _Awws_ , and one or two sniffs.

"And when I made that leap across the physical boundary, I knew it was forever. I became a massive gay-ist, and entered gaydom!".

The crowd cheered wildly. A very thin man called out, "And I'm a gay dom and all, sweetheart", to several chuckles.

"And maybe there were a few little hiccups along the way. We fell off the roof - ".

There was a gasp from the crowd.

"- but it was okay. A bouncy castle broke our fall, and we had oh such a good time on it. Because it's possible to have _fun_ , while still being _safe_ ".

"Preach it, brother!", somebody shouted, and there was a bit of clapping in agreement.

"Vince changed my life with that kiss, and now he and are to be joined in matrimony so that we can spend our lives together forever, and I don't know how I got so lucky, but somehow I did, and ... and ... and you're all invited to the wedding if you want to come!".

A massive cheer rose. Many people were standing, and clapping loudly.

"That's the loveliest story I ever heard", blubbered an extremely large bearded man, so tall and heavy that he made Howard feel puny. The bearded man blew his nose loudly, and wiped his eyes.

"Three cheers for Howard!", somebody shouted. "Three cheers for Howard's speech!".

And as the crowd gave three loud cheers, Howard knew he had found his people – whether it was the domain of gayness, or the kingdom of gays, or maybe just those who were really, really drunk and ready to cheer at pretty much anything.

"Mates, you're all a magnificent bunch of bastards!", yelled a drunken Australian backpacker. It was unclear whether he was gay, or had just naturally gravitated towards the drunkest people in London.

Everyone cheered for the backpacker. It was pretty much the best audience in history. Sooty and Sweep hand puppets would have got a demand for an encore, while an old guy telling dad jokes could have had his own fan club by the end of the night.

And Howard really must have drunk a lot, because he suddenly started singing _I Get a Kick Out of You_ , with the crowd joining in enthusiastically.

And then Howard knew he had _really_ drunk a lot, because he began kicking his legs, doing the can-can, and was soon joined by a line of people; he didn't know if they were men or women and he didn't care, he was kicking his gorgeous northern pins and having one of the best times of his life. This was a great birthday.

Vince lay on the floor, pretending to be passed out, and smiling to himself that Howard finally got to be the centre of attention on his own birthday for a change. Vince was very happy.

************************************************

Howard stayed up so late on his birthday night that he slept in, woke up with a hang-over, and missed dawn Jazzercise class for the first time since January 10. Participants weren't allowed to skip even once, as that constituted Slacking Off, so he was thrown out and had to slink back to the Weekly Jazzercise for Weaklings and Wimps class.

Howard continued riding his bike as often as possible, and did a Jazzercise routine at home most mornings. His body got a little softer and cuddlier, but Vince made it clear he preferred it that way.

As Vince said, "You're engaged now, Howard – let yourself go".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Female shamans weren't mentioned a lot in the show, so I was free to invent almost anything about them. You never saw them partying with the males, so I decided they would have to be more powerful, as their heads would be clearer (of course, I could also have made it that shamans did their partying with their own gender, which for all I know, is the case).
> 
> In the show Howard used "Brian Christ" as a swear word, in apparent tribute to Monty Python's Life of Brian. I figured his nominal religion must be the Church of Brian Christ, and decided to make it the dominant religion of their world. Apart from anything else, a very tolerant state religion would help explain why their universe was so accepting of homosexuality and magic. There are other religions of course, and Jesus was mentioned on the show, so his followers must have formed another of them. Terry is named after Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam without being either of them.
> 
> Apart from being my favourite autumn flowers, sunflowers symbolise lifelong happiness, and devotion between loving friends. 
> 
> For Vince and Howard's wedding outfits as drawn by Vince and Janet, you can see a cute picture of their wedding called Married on the Morrow at DeviantArt. The artist confirms that it's Vince and Howard, not an AU Noel and Julian, in the picture. https://www.deviantart.com/devilry/art/Married-on-the-Morrow-78748872
> 
> Pride Day had to be a public holiday to fit in with the calendar (Howard's birthday the previous year was a Monday, so this one had to be a Tuesday) and explain why nobody is at work on a weekday. It's hard to justify it, and it might only be a holiday in London and other major cities. The purpose of it in a world where people aren't really persecuted for being gay is unclear, but even in our universe, gay pride marches are becoming less about fighting for justice and more like cultural celebrations. It may also have simply taken over from earlier Summer Solstice festivals.


	12. A Midsummer Night's Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that reveals what Howard secretly wants from Vince, and a few other secrets he's been keeping as well. You've probably guessed by now, but in any case, don't worry – I wouldn't let anything bad happen to Vince or Howard. Not in a comedy, anyway. (Posting early due to scheduled power outage).

Rick was interviewing Howard for the documentary, having discovered that he got far better results when he interviewed Vince and Howard separately. When they were together, Vince kept gradually inching closer and closer to Howard, which created a nightmare for continuity. And the pair of them would never answer a question without first looking at each other for confirmation, and sometimes giggled together over a private joke which they refused to share. It was _very_ annoying.

"So Howard, can you tell me about the day you met Vince?", asked Rick in documentary interviewer mode.

"We met at boarding school", said Howard. "It was the first day of term, and I was a bit homesick and lonely".

"Can you describe the first moment you actually saw Vince?", Rick asked.

"I saw him sitting by himself at break time", said Howard slowly. "He looked ... extraordinary. Completely unlike any boy I'd ever seen before".

"Did you approach him?".

"Yes – I saw someone who was alone like me, and I suppose I was looking for a friend".

"So when you say Vince looked extraordinary, what do you mean by that exactly?", probed Rick.

"He didn't look ... completely human", said Howard reluctantly.

"You mean he looked like an animal?", Rick enquired.

"Perhaps in a way. He looked ... wild", said Howard.

"Ya mean like _Wild thing, you make my heart sing_ type wild?", asked Rick hopefully.

Howard was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"He reminded me of someone I had seen in a book. My parents bought me illustrated children's editions of the stories from Shakespeare's plays, and my favourite was _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Vince looked like the pictures of Puck in the book – as if he was from a world of enchantment, of faerie".

"So you were pretty enchanted by ye old fairy tale elf-boy Vince, then?", asked Rick, getting his folklore rather muddled.

"I suppose I was a little", admitted Howard. "I'd never seen someone who looked so ... magical. Like I said before, extraordinary".

"Well that's real romantic, isn't it?", said Rick. "All that magic and fairy tale and enchantment?".

"Except we were only children, and I hadn't even spoken to Vince at that point", said Howard, feeling that maybe he'd misled Rick somewhat.

"That's even _more_ romantic", insisted Rick. "The pure innocence of a child sees the truth of their beloved – and without a word having been spoken, you were already enthralled by this strange boy".

"I think perhaps I've given you the wrong impression", said Howard. "We were just friends, and only kids. We did normal things like help each other with our homework, and play cricket and marbles. I wasn't in love with Vince from the moment I saw him".

"My dear boy, I had a friend at school too – Joe Sheckenberg from Long Island. And he was a great kid, and we studied and shot hoops and traded baseball cards together. But you know what? I never once thought Joe looked like a wild fairy tale prince from a magical world of enchantment".

"I didn't actually _say_ that", said Howard in irritation.

"Howard dear boy, I've had a perfectly neato idea. The Royal Shakespeare Company are performing _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ at The Royal Theatre right now, and this Friday they're giving a royal command performance in front of the royal family. It's by invitation only, but I think I can finagle us an invite – I've got connections at the palace".

"Oh I don't know if that's a good idea", said Howard uneasily.

"You're right – it's a _great_ idea!", said Rick in ecstasy of his own genius. "Think of it, dear boy – you taking Vince, your very own Puck from the enchanted forest, on a hot date to see the play which helped you see Vince for what he truly is: a magical fairy tale elf prince".

"I'm not sure Vince even _likes_ the theatre", protested Howard.

"And of course I will be there with my trusty camera crew, ready to film the entire thing. But don't worry my dear boy, you won't even know we're there. Feel free to snuggle and smooch as much as you want. In fact, maybe do it just a little bit _more_ than you want".

"That would be entirely inappropriate behaviour for the theatre", said Howard crossly. "It's not like the cinema".

"And maybe I can arrange for you to meet the royal family. What a bonanza in a barn dance, huh? You English people all love your royalty, right?".

"Not really", said Howard. "I mean, not that I want them assassinated or anything".

"Well that sounds deeply patriotic to me", said Rick. "Anyway, this has been a real productive meeting, Howard. Send Vince in to be interviewed, dear boy".

Howard went off to the bedroom to worry non-stop about this new development, and was in too much of a fret to even care what Vince was saying in his interview.

***********************************************

"So Vince, what did you think of Howard when you first met him?", asked Rick.

"Oh he was a big scruffy northerner – the tallest kid in the class by miles. And he already looked forty years old from the millions of worry lines he had all over his face", said Vince. "Most people thought he was my dad".

"You didn't fall in love with him at first sight then?", asked Rick, trying to conceal his disappointment.

"Are you joking? Tall, mature-looking, dependable? 'Course I fell in love with Howard the first day I met him", Vince said in surprise.

"Oh do go on, cupcake", purred Rick. "Omit no detail, no matter how tiny or perverted".

"Well actually, it was my foster-father Bryan Ferry who told me I was in love with Howard – I didn't have a clue. You see, it happened this way ...".

It was probably a good thing Howard wasn't listening to the interview. He had enough on his mind.

***********************************************

Howard was trying to do up his cuff-links while going through his huge list of worries. His cuff-links wouldn't do up, his tie didn't look right, they had to go to a play which Howard was deeply conflicted about, Rick was going to film he and Vince together, they had to meet the royal family, the taxi was due in five minutes, and he had no idea where Vince was. Apart from that, everything was just spiffy.

At that moment, Vince breezed in through the front door, giving Howard a low wolf whistle.

"Wow, you look amazing in a suit! You're like Magnum PI disguised as James Bond. You should seriously wear stuff like this more often".

Howard looked at Vince coldly.

"Where have you been all this time? And what the _fuck_ are you wearing?", he demanded. "It's meant to be black tie!".

"Oh I thought you said black and tie-dyed", said Vince with a charmingly vague grin. "So I'm wearing black leather drainpipes with a green and blue tie-dyed blouse".

"That blouse is almost completely see-through", said Howard in a fury. "This isn't the time to dress as a futuristic prostitute!".

Vince looked down at what he was wearing in confusion as to why Howard was so angry about it.

"It's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ – isn't that all about magic and fairies? So I've got silver high-heeled knee boots, and tons of silver and blue glitter in my hair and make-up".

"Just for once, couldn't you have put on a suit and tie like everyone else?", said Howard in despair.

"You never criticise my outfits", said Vince in shock. "You even said I looked great in everything and could wear whatever I like".

"Thanks for taking something I said during foreplay and throwing it back in my face weeks later", snapped Howard. "This is a formal event – we're meant to be meeting the royal family!".

"The royal family seem like a really cool and relaxed bunch of people", said Vince persuasively. "I think they'll love meeting someone who's not all boring and stuffy for once".

"The royal family are neither cool nor relaxed! They are all about correct protocol, and they will want to meet people dressed for a formal event. For men, that means black tie".

"Mm, but I'm not exactly a normal man, am I?", said Vince. "I mean, what other man will be wearing blue and silver glitter make-up, and silver glitter gel in his hair?".

"If you feel that way, then you should have worn an evening gown", said Howard. "That's what women will be wearing".

"I'm not a woman", objected Vince. "I mean, look at this". He cupped the part of his leather drainpipes which made it abundantly clear he wasn't a woman, although the tightness of the trousers meant the gesture was mostly superfluous.

"I can't believe we have to have this conversation", said Howard, even angrier that Vince was getting him aroused in the middle of an argument. "When you had lunch with my parents, you wore perfectly suitable clothes with no problems at all – why can you suddenly not comprehend how to dress for the occasion?".

"If you can't see the difference between being in my own home with people I've known nearly all my life, my family in fact, and going out for a social event in a crowd of strangers, then I can't help you", said Vince, finally getting a little irritated himself. "I'm sorry if you hate what I'm wearing but you'll have to lump it because I won't change; not for you, or royalty, or anyone else".

Howard remembered he had said his favourite thing about Vince was his courage in always being his authentic self. He could hardly complain if Vince displayed evidence of that courage now.

"I don't hate it", said Howard at last. "You look ... you look incredible, actually".

"And you look incredible and all", smiled Vince. "So let's go out and look incredible together. The taxi's here: I told it to wait for us on my way up".

"I just wanted us to to look like everyone else and blend in with the crowd", said Howard. "That's all".

"Howard, you're marrying me – you're never going to blend in with the crowd ever again", said Vince, not without sympathy. "Let's face it, I tend to stand out quite a lot".

As they went downstairs to the waiting taxi, Howard had to admit that his crowd-blending days were almost certainly over, if they had ever existed to begin with.

**************************************************

In the back of the taxi, Vince did up Howard's cuff-links and fixed his black bow-tie. There was no fashion disaster, big or small, that Vince couldn't put right.

"Don't you think it would look better if we were both in black tie?", said Howard wistfully.

"No way, I'm not competing with you", grinned Vince. "You're so handsome in a suit that nobody would bother looking at me".

He leaned over and kissed Howard passionately, getting so close he was almost sitting in Howard's lap. He began fiddling with the zip on Howard's trousers.

"Vince, not in front of the taxi driver!", said Howard, recalling the waitress at the Chinese restaurant.

"Don't bother me", said the driver indifferently. "Seen it all, mates. Do what you want; only thing is, make a mess back there and I'll have to charge you for it".

"Genius, I'll swallow, then there won't be any mess", said Vince, seeming ready to put this plan into immediate action.

"Works for me", said the taxi driver.

Howard felt affronted by the moral laxity of modern taxi drivers.

"No Vince, stop that!", he said, pushing Vince away from him. "I want to arrive at the theatre in a seemly manner, not with my trousers down and your head in my pants".

"Thought I'd seen everything before", said the taxi driver in disbelief. "A bloke like you, turning down a bit of totty like that? I'll have to tell my wife Alan about this one".

"Don't refer to my fiance as a bit of totty!", said Howard.

"He's going to be a right laugh on the wedding night, isn't he?", the taxi driver said to Vince.

"He's just a bit stressed", said Vince. "He needs some relief, that's all – come on Howard, you'll arrive at the theatre feeling much more relaxed".

However, Howard didn't arrive feeling relaxed. While he was struggling with Vince, the taxi suddenly lurched to a stop, and Howard half-fell out the door onto the red carpet, amidst a dazzle of flashlights. The paparazzi were out in force, and right at the front were Rick and his camera crew.

Vince paid the driver and elegantly alighted from the taxi, sashaying down the red carpet, smiling and waving for the cameras, and keeping a tight hold on Howard.

"I really am just an accessory to you, aren't I?", muttered Howard. "Your handbag".

"You're my arm candy", said Vince through smiling lips. "Now pucker up".

He kissed Howard for the cameras. Lights flashed. The pictures would never look as good as the one against the brick wall though.

**************************************************

Rick told them they would be meeting the royal family in a private room before the performance started; they had three minutes, and _not_ to mention the war.

"What war?", said a puzzled Howard, before they were suddenly presented to their seraphic majesties.

Howard bowed and scraped to the best of his ability, but Vince just wandered up and said, "Hi, I'm Vince. That dress you've got on looks amazing, by the way. It's so sparkly".

"Thank you", said the Ma'am. "I simply adore what you're wearing – it's quite refreshing to meet someone who's not boring and stuffy for once".

"I can't tell if you're a boy or a girl", said the Sir, peering more closely.

"Don't know myself, some days", grinned Vince.

"I'd still give you a good shagging, though", said the Sir, which made everyone laugh in appreciation of his famously outrageous sense of humour. Everyone except Howard, who was rethinking his anti-assassination policy.

"My grandson is a huge fan of your music", the Ma'am said graciously to Howard.

This sounded extremely unlikely to Howard, but he said he could arrange free tickets to a concert for him, and the prince was more than welcome to meet them backstage after the show. The Ma'am said that sounded delightful, and her secretary would call to make the arrangements.

Apparently once you meet royalty, you have to go _on_ meeting them, Howard thought resentfully. No doubt they eventually end up on your Christmas card list, and then you're stuck with them for life.

Their three minutes were up, and they were permitted to leave the royal presences, Vince turning around and waving several times as he went, like a child saying goodbye to a train.

"See, they're a really cool, relaxed bunch of people", said Vince to Howard, who was feeling anything but cool and relaxed himself.

***********************************************

Howard watched the play rather unhappily. The only good piece of news was that the seats Rick had procured for them were right at the back – probably because nobody else wanted them, but it was convenient for Rick, who could film Howard and Vince without getting in other people's way.

Howard felt very embarrassed being filmed at the theatre – it seemed the height of self-importance that royalty were attending the event, but it was he and Vince who had arrived with their own camera crew in tow. He knew that Rick was hoping to get plenty of footage of them looking romantic together, and Vince was more than happy to oblige. He'd tried to suck Howard off in the back of the taxi, so holding hands in the Royal Theatre wasn't going to be a problem for him.

Howard felt keenly aware of Vince sitting close beside him in the dark; he seemed almost naked compared to everyone else, who were dressed in suits or long gowns. His transparent blouse barely concealed his torso, and his tight trousers were slung so low on his hips that even more of his body was exposed. Howard tried to keep his eyes forward, focused on the stage, but somehow they kept giving shifty little looks at Vince. Whenever this happened, Vince would stroke his hand affectionately, or gently squeeze his inner thigh, which wasn't helping him to concentrate on the performance.

By a cruel coincidence, the young actor playing Puck looked vaguely similar to Vince when he was at school – pale, slim, and androgynous with a mass of dark blond hair. On a distant stage, lit by coloured floodlights, the resemblance was enough to make Howard wonder if this had all been a cunning scheme by Rick to confront him with the wild enchanting Vince of his childhood.

Ever since his conversation with Rick, Howard had thought about the day he met Vince, and whether he had been attracted to him from the first day they met after all. Vince had openly told people he'd fallen in love in Howard at first sight – but then, that was a stupid idea put in his head by Bryan Ferry. Bryan should never have said something so inappropriate to a child, and the notion of two eleven-year-olds falling in love and embarking on a relationship was ludicrous. They wouldn't have had the first clue what to do with each other, and the idea of having clumsy hand-holding sessions with Vince while the rest of their class snickered and jeered was appalling.

But then, the idea of it happening when they were slightly older, at least old enough to learn how to keep it to themselves, wasn't so appalling. And it definitely would have been completely okay when they were at college together ... Vince had said he would have been happy to be with Howard at any point after the day they met.

It all made Howard conscious of the years that had been wasted, and he felt like railing at himself for being so useless. He knew he was wasting even more time regretting the past, but that didn't help him feel any better about it. He had fallen in love with many Vinces, but the ones that had got away, the ones he had missed out on, continued to haunt him.

Howard knew that Vince was in love with him, but he still didn't understand why, and found it hard to accept. Vince's own explanations didn't make any sense to him, and sounded like the ravings of a madman. Other people seemed astonished that he managed to attract Vince at all, like Dave and the taxi driver, and he had sometimes noticed disbelieving glances at them in public, as if others shared that astonishment. After all, Vince could have anyone, even royalty, so why had he chosen Howard?

It was if a mischievous fairy had rubbed love-in-idleness upon Vince's eyelids and he had fallen for the first person he saw, like Titania making a fool of herself over poor Bottom. Perhaps it was actually Vince who had been bewitched by Howard, and not the other way around ... Howard just knew that he was the freak with a face like an ass, and Vince was the lovely fairy queen.

And why did this play have to be so erotic? Hardly anybody seemed to be wearing actual clothes, there were many lewd embraces between characters, and taking place in a magical dreamscape of a forest gave the sense that anything could happen. Couples swapped partners, as Vince had once suggested they do with Lance and Harold, kings chose young Indian boys for their lovers, queens chose men with donkey heads, fairies teased and seduced humans, and even the popular mechanicals seemed on the verge of an all-male cross-dressing orgy ...

Howard didn't know why this was disturbing him so much, he just knew it wasn't helping him not to think about Vince, and how near and naked he felt, next to Howard in the darkness. The silver glitter gel in his hair glowed like a sign of enchantment that anything could happen – even Vince loving him, even Vince wanting him. Surely only midsummer magic, midsummer madness, could explain all this.

************************************************

Vince was enjoying the play. It was funny and sexy, and although he didn't think he could understand poetry, he let the language wash over him like music. Mostly he was enjoying being out in public with Howard – it was a chance to show him off, and Vince proudly thought Howard was the handsomest man in the theatre. Vince could be a little delusional about Howard, but in this case I think he was right, and Howard was the handsomest man there in a suit. Most of the other people there were much older than they, and connected with the monarchy or other important positions.

Vince could tell that Howard was getting himself worked up over something. He'd been stressed for days, and last night Howard hadn't even wanted to have sex, he'd been so worried about going to this play. Why, Vince had no idea; it had all been wonderful. No wonder he was in a state now. Vince leaned over and pretended to be quietly whispering to Howard, but really he was kissing his neck and ear.

"I have to get out of here", Howard suddenly said, sounding strained. "I need some fresh air".

He lurched out of his seat and headed for the exit, and Vince went after him, hastily telling Rick that Howard wasn't feeling well. He meant to take Howard's hand and lead him outside, but found that Howard had grabbed onto him and was dragging him along. Howard almost pushed Vince through a door, where Vince looked around in bemusement.

"Oh yeah, the men's bogs – that's a great place to get some fresh air", he said. "My lungs feel clearer already".

The Royal Theatre was an old building which still had the traditional separate toilets for men and women, not the unisex ones more common in modern structures. The toilets had just been revamped in keeping with the Regency style of the theatre, and there was an outer room with gold framed mirrors on the wall and velvet divans to sit on, and an inner room which had marble basins and toilet facilities.

"We need to talk", Howard said in a hoarse voice.

Vince thought Howard meant they would sit on a divan and talk, but instead he took Vince through into the other room, and locked them both in a stall together. The stalls were large and it wasn't particularly cramped in there, but Vince still thought it was an odd place to choose for a conversation.

"So what do you want to talk about?", Vince asked.

Howard's answer was to lean Vince up against the door and kiss him hard, his lips almost bruising Vince's in their intensity. One of Howard's hands held Vince's face, while the other explored Vince's body with his long fingers. Vince thought it was even better than the kiss against the brick wall, because Howard had had much more practice by now, and wasn't kissing Vince because he'd mistaken Icelandic tourists for paparazzi, but because he was filled with desire for him.

"Enjoying the play?", Howard asked, with a catch in his voice.

"What? Um yeah, it's good", said Vince. He was weak at the knees, and bewildered to find that Howard did actually mean to talk to him after all. He'd started to think that was more or less an excuse.

"I asked you to see _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ with me years ago, when we were in college", Howard went on. "You said no, because you wanted to hang out with your new Art student friends".

"I'm sorry Howard, but I don't remember that", said Vince. "Was it ... was it meant to be a date or something?".

"No. Yes. I don't know", Howard said. "I don't know what would have happened".

"Well I was a stupid berk to say no then", said Vince. "I probably neglected you a bit after we started college. It was exciting meeting people who were interested in the same things I was, and I was only a teenager".

"Yes, you did neglect me", said Howard, looking tense. "You ruined my favourite play by saying no. You made me love it, and then you made me hate it".

"What? _I_ made you love this play? How?", asked Vince, all at sea.

"I can't explain", said Howard. He tried, but Vince couldn't make head nor tail of it. Something about Vince being Puck, and looking wild and magical and coming from an enchanted forest, and how Rick's best friend Joe Sheckenberg looked nothing like a fairy tale prince.

"Well I came to the play this time", said Vince, trying to make Howard focus on the present rather than the past. "And I love it, and I love being with you".

"Yes you came, and you sat next to me in the dark, almost naked, touching me, and kissing me, and making me want you", said Howard, gripping Vince's wrist. It was like flirting, except Vince thought Howard's voice wasn't flirtatious, but bitter and angry.

Vince tried to sound light and casual as he replied, "Just can't help myself around you, can I?".

Howard didn't say anything in response, but grabbed Vince and shoved him face first against the marble wall of the toilet stall, holding him in place with one hand across his back. Vince was completely unable to move, and although he'd always known that Howard was physically powerful, this exhibition of his strength was making him shiver. It was a turn on, but still quite scary. Being afraid was also a turn on.

Vince let out a small noise, half pleasure, half pain, as Howard began biting the back of his neck in a sort of controlled fury, and pulling his hair hard. But it was only when Howard began reaching around the front of his leather trousers and beginning to undo them that he thought he knew what Howard had in mind. Was he completely mental?, Vince thought. They didn't have anything with them, and there'd been no preparation – they hadn't even discussed this.

"Hey cool your boots there", said Vince, still trying to sound relaxed and in control of the situation.

But Vince knew that once Howard got into one of these moods, it was hard for him to cool it. After all, he'd told Howard to be cool around Gideon, and he'd yelled out to her that she was a bitch. Another time he'd beaten her up and given her two black eyes. Vince was reminded of the day on a desert island when Howard had tried to eat him – and not in the good way, either. He just kept coming after Vince with an inexorable hunger.

Vince's instincts were to let Howard do whatever he wanted, and sort it out afterwards. But although Vince knew he could forgive Howard (Vince was almost too forgiving by nature, and got over things quickly), he also knew that Howard would never forgive himself. He wasn't resilient like Vince, and there was a fragility to his mind that meant he might be utterly destroyed by it.

As Howard began pulling down Vince's leather drainpipes, Vince tried to think of something that could get through to him.

"Howard, remember the irreparable damage to the door!", he shouted desperately.

Howard stopped dead in his tracks, his hands falling to his sides. And then all Vince could hear was sobbing. The spell was broken, the midsummer madness was over. Vince led Howard to a divan, and let him cry it out, patting his back.

Rick must have decided that this constituted an emergency situation, because he had sent One to check on them. One stuck his head around the door and asked if there was anything wrong; it was strange to hear his voice, like a chair suddenly speaking, or having a wall talk to you.

"Howard was just overcome with emotion watching the play", Vince explained. "He's got a very sensitive, artistic temperament".

"But it's a comedy", said One in bafflement.

"Comedies always make him cry", said Vince firmly. "Every time. I'll take him home in a taxi now".

*************************************************

"So this is why you never wanted to bum me?", asked Vince.

He had got Howard home and made him a pot of tea (Howard thought Vince couldn't make tea properly, but he was perfectly capable). Vince had put his arm around Howard and asked him to explain what the hell had happened back at the theatre, and Howard had done his best, although still rather weepy about it. It had all seemed proper mental to Vince, and made almost no sense at all.

"Yes, I thought ... I thought I wouldn't be able to control myself, and I'd ... I don't know ... I'd bum you to death or something", muttered Howard.

"Bum me to _death_?", said Vince incredulously. "Howard, I know you're hung like a Yorkshire stallion, but you're not so big that you'll kill a man with it. Where do you get these ideas from?".

"Bollo thought something bad would happen to you too", said Howard.

"Bollo _always_ thinks something bad is going to happen. And he's a gorilla who hangs out with shamans; I don't think he really understands human biology. And he's a tiny bit jealous of you".

"Jealous?".

"Yeah – you know, there's friends like Leroy who just want you to be happy, and then there's friends like Bollo who don't want to share you with anyone".

"You don't mind about ... about what I said before?", asked Howard anxiously. "You still want to marry me?".

"So what you're saying is, I'll have a gorgeous, sexy, big-dicked husband who likes rough sex. Where's the problem?".

"Not rough all the time", Howard said hurriedly. "Only sometimes".

"Okay, so I'll have a gorgeous, sexy, big-dicked husband who likes occasional rough sex", amended Vince. "Got any more bad news for me? Do you also secretly have a billion euros or something?".

Howard flushed and looked uncomfortable, and Vince could have kicked himself for forgetting how thin-skinned Howard could be.

"I'm just joking", he reassured Howard. "I don't care if we don't have a lot of money, you know that".

"No it's not that", said Howard slowly. "It's just that I do have some money. Not a billion euros or anything though".

"How do you have money?", asked Vince in amazement.

"I joined the workforce earlier than you did", said Howard.

"Only about eighteen months earlier".

"And we got free accommodation at the Zooniverse for years, so I took the money we would have spent on rent and put it in a savings account. And we saved money by sharing a room at Naboo's, so I took the money that would have been the price of a second room and that went in the account too. And we're getting a free flat now, so I've been doing the same thing again".

"Howard, you're a financial genius!", said Vince. "How much have you got?".

"Wait, there's more. I also got higher wages as head zookeeper, so I saved the difference there, and Fossil kept putting my wages up every time I gave him a handjob".

"How many ... wage rises ... are we talking here?".

"Quite a lot", admitted Howard. "And I was getting overtime rates for the moonlight dancing. And I got paid for being a bin man, so I saved those wages, and Denmark has pretty generous award rates for actors, so I did quite well out of that commercial. And Jurgen Haabermaaster asked me to be in a few other little film projects while I was in Copenhagen. You know, since I was already there".

"Oh fuck – he made you do porn, didn't he?", Vince said. "You always let men make you do pervy things, and you absolutely worship Haabermaaster".

"It wasn't porn", said Howard with a red face. "They were short art films, and extremely tasteful".

"Were you nude?", demanded Vince.

"Well yes, but like I said, extremely tasteful and very artistic. The nudity was for purely symbolic purposes. And I negotiated to receive a percentage of any profits as well".

"Oh wow, you're a frigging porn star", said Vince, sounding staggered. "My husband the gorgeous, sexy, big-dicked, wealthy porn star".

"You've got some money too", Howard told him. "I had you declared my apprentice at the zoo for tax purposes, and sequestered your wages. And I convinced Naboo to let me do the same thing at the shop – he seemed to agree that it would be better if I had control of your money. It's not much, but I was able to invest the money for you, and it's done quite well over the past dozen years".

"You mean all this time we've both been living on half your wage?", said Vince indignantly. "I have to beg and beg just to buy a can of hairspray, and make most of my own clothes!".

"Well, couples have to learn to budget", said Howard reasonably. "And now through careful saving and wise investment, we've got a bit of money put aside".

"How much?".

"I've got around 1.2 million euros, and you've got just under 700 000".

"Holy shit", said Vince. "You're such a dodgy bastard, Howard – I had no idea you were doing any of this".

"I hope you're not angry at me taking control of the finances without asking", said Howard.

"Are you joking? We're millionaires! Next you'll tell me you're a member of the royal family or something".

"Oh that was only in the Middle Ages – I expect everyone is related to Richard III by now; I think I heard that on _QI_ ".

"You're seriously royal?".

"The Moons were part of a minor cadet branch of The House of York, and our coat of arms is a brown stallion rampant on a beige field with full moon argent; underneath is the family motto: _I Have So Much to Give_. But it's all meaningless by now".

"Flipping heck, you're the Duke of Leeds or something, aren't you Howard?".

"No, no – the Moons haven't been in the line of succession for the dukedom since the eighteenth century. The Moons were the Lords of Haworth Manor, but that all came to an end in Victorian times".

"Please tell me that at least you own a castle", joked Vince.

"Just a really small one in Scotland, and it's basically a ruin", said Howard. "I inherited it from my mum's brother, Uncle Alistair; it's all the Comyn family had left".

"Is it on a loch, and does the loch have a monster in it?", asked Vince excitedly.

"Heaps of Scottish castles are on lochs, and the monster is pretty much just a tourist thing", said Howard dismissively. "It's probably some type of giant squid".

"I knew it – you own Hogwarts!", said Vince triumphantly. "Crumbling old ruined castle in the Highlands of Scotland, on a loch with a giant squid: it's got to be Hogwarts, Howard. You're not just a financial wizard, you're an _actual_ wizard!".

"Hate to break it you, Vince, but Hogwarts isn't real, it's just in a children's book".

But Vince wasn't listening, he was almost dancing in his seat with merriment over Howard's news.

"All my dreams are coming true, Howard! I'm marrying a millionaire, I'm marrying a sex symbol, I'm marrying a rock star, I'm marrying royalty, and I'm marrying a wizard! I'm so lucky that I get to have everything I ever wanted, while poor old Howard, it's just typical that you get stuck with me".

He kissed Howard softly, as if to console him for being so unfortunate as to be marrying Vince.

But Howard didn't think he was at all unlucky to be getting Vince as his husband – it seemed like all his midsummer night dreams were coming true as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a journalist in "The Guardian", I think, who found that she could only properly interview Julian and Noel by separating them. Vince and Howard's behaviour in interviews mirrors Noel and Julian's quite strongly: it might be annoying for interviewers, but not for fans of course.
> 
> The taxi driver calls his (presumably) male spouse Alan his "wife", in line with the show where Vince was sometimes mistaken for Howard's wife, and Howard was occasionally called Vince's wife (and there was a running gag of a wife named Alan). I didn't feel comfortable designating either Vince or Howard the "wife", as the show seemed to indicate that each of them took on both masculine and feminine roles in the relationship, so for the purposes of the story, older generations of same-sex partners came from an era when it was the cultural norm for one spouse to be nominated the wife and the other the husband. For younger male couples like Howard and Vince (and Dave and Mike), they are both husbands. 
> 
> The royal family are AU versions of the ones in our universe. The show did indicate that Britain still had a royal family, although Howard referred to the Queen Mother as if she was alive, when she had passed away by then in our universe. They either had an AU royal family with a different or longer-lived Queen Mother, or the episode "Party" took place prior to 2002, or it's the usual timey-wimey stuff. I'm guessing the Royal Theatre is their equivalent of the Theatre Royal.
> 
> In "Some Entirely Unremarkable Evening" I hinted that Howard occasionally had physically forceful fantasies about Vince which made him very guilty, and in "The Best Laid Plans" I hinted that Howard was fearful of hurting Vince if he ever gave in to his sexual desires. It struck me that with this cocktail of guilt and repression, coupled with his anger management issues, I had made Howard a sexual powder keg just waiting to go off. It's not surprising he isn't able to explain it coherently to Vince while in distress, or that Vince would find it "mental". (By the way, the first story mentioned made it perfectly clear Howard could never get Vince's trousers off without assistance, so there's no way that was ever going any further without full consent). 
> 
> In fact "QI" mentioned how everyone was related to Charlemagne after so many generations had passed, not Richard III – but Howard is quite right: all of us actually are related to Richard III by now. In our universe, the House of York was itself a cadet branch of the Plantagenets, the Dukedom of Leeds became extinct in 1964, and Haworth is connected with the Bronte sisters – the Midgeleys were lords of its manor, often seen as one of the inspirations for "Wuthering Heights" (like the Moons, the Midgeleys were from Leeds).
> 
> Howard's castle is based on Lochindorb Castle, which was owned by the Clan Comyn, but was transferred to the Stewarts in our universe. It's located more or less where Hogwarts appears to be in the Harry Potter novels, and fanfiction loves to conflate the two. 
> 
> Season 1 Howard seemed quite financially canny, and I kept waiting for a plotline where it would be revealed he was actually wealthy. I'm not sure how he managed to amass so much money simply through careful saving and wise investment, but there is a tiny little hint in a future chapter. For anyone who deplores the economic abuse he's been committing for over a decade, I agree; he's a dodgy bastard and none of it seems legal to me. Luckily for him, Vince is ultra-forgiving (and slightly delusional).
> 
> Can you believe it's more than half way through the story already? Thank you to everyone who is reading, and commenting, and giving kudos – it means a lot, and much appreciated. It's helped me to start writing other stories about Howard and Vince.


	13. The Bees and the Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard has important information for Vince about their future, while Vince gives Howard an education in bumming.

The next morning, Howard brought Vince breakfast in bed. Vince didn't usually like eating much in the morning, but Howard had made him Nutella on toast cut into tiny crustless triangles, and fed him strawberries by hand, giving him a kiss every time he successfully ate a bite, so he managed okay. Vince got the idea that Howard wanted to pamper him, and although he didn't really think it was necessary, he wasn't going to argue either.

Howard had had sex twice since they got home from the theatre, and felt far less weepy and more in control of himself. He realised that now he was doing less exercise, he needed more sex to keep his moods on an even keel - possibly one reason why Vince had been happy for him to give up the daily Jazzercise class. Howard decided he couldn't let his sexual frustration build up like that ever again – the thought that he might have seriously hurt Vince was terrifying.

Vince put on his kimono, and asked Howard to do his make-up for him, testing to see how far he would go. The fact Howard agreed at once showed he was definitely getting pampered. Vince had taught Howard to do his make-up on Xooberon (apart from washing Vince and dealing with the obvious consequences of that, it had been his main task as a slave), so Howard knew what he was doing, but Vince had never asked him to do it since.

Howard might have big powerful hands, but they could be surprisingly tender, and he had a good eye for detail. Vince thought there was something very intimate about having Howard lightly touch his face, sitting so close that he could see directly into his shrew-like brown eyes. Vince wondered if Howard had noticed any signs of age changing his features in the intervening years, but if so, Howard never said. Vince could see the lines had deepened in Howard's face, but he thought that just made him seem more experienced and mature, which was very sexy.

Howard followed Vince's directions, and outlined his eyes in kohl to give them a dark edge, before smudging the line into a soft smoky effect..

"This makes it look as if you have bruising around your eyes", he commented.

"You don't like it?".

"No, your eyes look even more beautiful in contrast", Howard assured him.

"Kinky bastard", Vince said lightly.

Howard flushed, and pulled back Vince's hair to see the bruising on his neck where he had bitten him. He felt torn with guilt, but deeper down also a thrill of satisfaction, as if he had marked Vince as his own.

"Does it hurt, little man?", he asked, gently touching the bruises.

"Nah, they're pretty much just intense love bites", said Vince.

"I'll put some anti-bruising cream on them", said Howard, getting the first aid kit. Once he returned, he began carefully rubbing the cream into Vince's neck.

"I always had to do this after every satsuma fight, do you remember?", Howard said. "You bruised so easily".

"Yeah it was my favourite thing about them, actually", admitted Vince. "Having you rub lotion into my skin. I always tried to get bruised on my thighs and belly so I could have you touch me there".

"We haven't had a satsuma fight for ages, have you noticed?", Howard said.

"Well ... we don't really need them any more, do we?", said Vince. "I mean, weren't they basically an excuse to see each other in our underwear, and mess about together?".

"I suppose so", said Howard. "They were fun though – I think I enjoyed bruising you, then rubbing cream into you".

"You really are a kinky bastard", said Vince with interest. "The first time you ever rubbed lotion into my thighs, I thought I was going to get a stiffy it felt so good. I had to think about all kinds of horrible unsexy things so it didn't happen".

"I wanted you to get a stiffy", Howard said. "I was subtly offering you a hand job, you little titbox".

That was genuinely surprising news for Vince. He had often bemoaned the way Howard never seemed to pick up on any of Vince's hints that he was interested in Howard, but it seemed as if he had been equally hopeless at picking up on any of Howard's hints. Maybe it wasn't entirely Howard's fault that it had taken them so long to get together after all.

***********************************************

Leroy came over for a business meeting that morning – Vince was out of his kimono and dressed by then. Vince had put on a shirt with a high collar to make sure the back of his neck was properly covered, because Leroy was the type of friend who would see bruises on Vince and take a swing at Howard before asking questions. He might have been much smaller than Howard but he had a good right hook – Leroy the Reach, he had been known as in his younger days.

Leroy had never been to their flat before, and they gave him the not-very-grand tour. Only a small place, it took about two minutes to point everything out.

"And you're getting this for free?", he asked. "When does that finish?".

"When we get married, I suppose", said Howard. "Rick wants the documentary to end with our wedding, so after that he won't need to film here any more".

"So where are you going to live after that?", Leroy asked.

Howard and Vince looked at each other. All their focus had been on the wedding, and they hadn't once discussed what their life was going to be like after marriage.

"Dunno, just move back in with Naboo and Bollo I suppose", shrugged Vince.

"You can't keep living in Naboo's spare room", said Leroy, looking a bit scandalised. "Howard, I hope you're going to do the right thing by Vince and provide him with a proper home once you're married".

"Er, yes", said Howard. "Um, I mean we should really get our own place. We just haven't thought about it yet".

"Well get a move on then", said Leroy. "Look, my brother Royle's an estate agent – I'll give him a ring, and he can take you around to look at some properties".

"I thought you and your brother didn't speak to one another", said Vince.

"Yeah we didn't for a while, seeing as how he's such a tosser and that, but we buried the hatchet", said Leroy. "Life's too short to hold grudges against family. He's still a tosser, mind".

Leroy phoned Royle, and had a conversation which seemed to be mostly Leroy saying things like _Shut it, you tosser_ , and _Oh here we go again, that old story_.

"Royle wants to know if you're buying or renting?", he asked.

"Um, buying I suppose", said Howard, wishing he'd thought about this decision for longer for one second.

"Yeah, Royle says renting's a mug's game. He might be able to see you some time next week. Oh wait, he says what's your budget?".

"A million euros", said Vince loudly.

"Don't be ridiculous Vince, we're not spending every euro we have on somewhere to live", said Howard in horror.

"Blimming heck, Royle says in that case he can see you this afternoon", said Leroy, looking at Howard with a new respect.

Maybe the scruffy northerner could take care of Vince after all. He'd always wondered what Vince saw in Howard, but if the bloke was an eccentric millionaire, that would help to explain a _lot_.

***************************************************

Meeting Royle had been a shock. They knew he was Leroy's brother, but Leroy had never thought to mention that Royle was his identical twin. It was strange seeing someone who looked just like Leroy, but somehow quite different at the same time. Leroy was clean-shaven, while Royle had a neat goatee; Leroy had very curly hair, while Royle kept his cropped so short you couldn't even tell it had a natural curl. Royle had a slightly leaner face than his twin, and wore glasses.

Every time they thought Royle was a completely different person to Leroy, he would suddenly give them Leroy's cherubic smile, or move his hands in the same distinctive manner as his brother. They had the same voice, but Royle had a much different way of speaking.

"Howard, why does Royle sound as if he wants to have sex with us?", Vince whispered to Howard in the back of Royle's Porsche. "I think he's coming onto us".

"That's how estate agents talk", Howard whispered back. "It's a selling technique – we're meant to find it warm and charming".

"It's giving me the creeps", said Vince. "And I seriously think he's angling for a threesome".

Royle had sized Vince and Howard up straight away. Vince – girly-looking bloke with Goth make-up, dressed as a Mod in flares and a high-necked shirt. Howard – big scruffy bloke who looked like a Geography teacher, dressed in brown cords and a red and white Hawaiian shirt. They were in a band, and probably didn't have the first clue about buying property (if he knew they only decided to do it this morning, he wouldn't have been a bit surprised).

Royle was far too astute to think that Vince and Howard's appearance had anything to do with how much money they had. He had recently sold a large country estate to a rag-and-bone man who looked like something out of _Steptoe and Son_. The only trouble with these eccentric millionaires is that it was hard to get them to part with their money – they'd usually worked hard for it, and had strong memories of having far less.

Royle unerringly picked Howard as the one with the money, but also thought he was the sort of mug who would let his partner twist him round their little finger. He decided that if Vince really wanted something, Howard would probably give it to him, so it looked like winning Vince over would be the key to it all. It was frightening how well Royle had assessed them within thirty seconds of meeting.

"So I understand you have a budget of a million euros", Royle said. "I can find you something really nice in that price bracket".

"Oh now, I think there was a misunderstanding somewhere", said Howard. "I think under 500 000 would be a more realistic budget".

"Let's split the difference and say 750 000 is the top of your budget then", said Royle smoothly. "That gives us a bit of wiggle room".

Howard felt a familiar wave of dread wash over him.

**************************************************

Royle was showing them yet another two bedroom flat in Shoreditch which looked like a grim Dickensian slum from the outside but was bright and airy inside, with views from the balcony of more grim Dickensian slums, no doubt filled with other bright, airy apartments with similar grim Dickensian views.

"Are you quite set on this area?", asked Royle.

"Well, we work in Dalston so we're looking for something in a five mile radius", said Howard. "At the moment, we're walking distance to work, the club we perform in, and the shops".

"First mistake people make in property", Royle said. "Buying in the area you currently live in. Your dream home could be found at a bargain price by simply adding ten minutes to your commute. And how long do you think you'll be at your current employment anyway? Do you see yourself there in five years? What about ten?".

"Er", said Howard.

"And what about when the kiddies come along?", went on Royle. "Maybe a house would be more practical. I know of a lovely little terraced cottage in the Highgate area, right near an excellent school, with a garden, around the corner from the park, for well under your original budget".

"I don't know if we're planning on having kids or not", said Howard worriedly, looking at Vince for help.

"Oh you'll love them", Royle assured him, as if the children came with the house. "My wife Sarah and I have three, and we couldn't live without them. We once went on holiday by ourselves, and we spent the whole time looking at their photos and texting them. Complete waste of money".

"Um", said Howard.

"Anyway, you wander around and chat together", Royle said. "Get a feel for this lovely bright, airy apartment in the heart of the trendy Shoreditch area. Budget-priced, and just perfect for a young, hip couple in the music industry who have their fingers on the pulse of this exciting city".

"What does he mean we're going to have three children?", Howard muttered distractedly to Vince. "How exactly does he think we're getting children?".

"The same way other male couples have children, you berk", replied Vince. "Didn't Percy ever give you the talk about when a daddy loves another daddy very much?".

"No, he only taught me geography, jazz, wilderness skills, and why I'm a big fat disappointment", said Howard.

"What about Health class in school?", demanded Vince.

"Well they started off with women and women, then they did men and women, and then I fainted. I still hadn't come around while they were doing men and men".

"Oh that's your excuse for everything – being unconscious!", snorted Vince. "I can't think what made you faint, anyway".

"The video was very graphic", said Howard, looking pale.

"So basically you only know how lesbians have children", said Vince.

"I know men and women up until the scary part", said Howard.

"I suppose it's my job to teach you about the bees and the bees, then", sighed Vince.

"Speaking of bees, I always thought Beatrice would be a good name for a little girl", said Howard. "I mean, Beatrice was a great poet's muse, and she's in Shakespeare. Bee for short".

"You're unbelievable", said Vince. "You don't even know where babies come from, and you're discussing baby names".

"I know where lesbian babies come from", said Howard. "And the nursery could be yellow and black, bee colours".

"You know every other man in the world would be running away screaming at this point, don't you?".

"You said every _other_ man in the world", smiled Howard, wondering if yellow and black would really work in a nursery after all. He decided to ask Royle his opinion, as he was a father too.

**************************************************

Royle was driving them back from looking at the terraced cottage in Highgate near the park, which Howard had rejected because Beatrice's nursery didn't look overlook the garden, and there weren't even any trees in it. Howard the family man had suddenly got extremely fussy.

"You know, you could cast your net even wider", said Royle. "Have you considered moving out of London altogether? Just sold a lovely young couple a great little property in Kent; a converted goat shed on two acres of land".

"What, we'd live in a goat shed?", said Vince in disgust.

"No, no – not a _whole_ goat shed. Just half the shed was converted".

"And what's in the other half?", asked Howard.

"Goats", explained Royle. "Think of that country lifestyle: you could raise chickens or pigs, make your own jam, and all just an easy train ride into the city. Perhaps I could get you on _Escape to the Country_ ".

"No way", said Vince. "I'm not ending up in a mystery house – sounds well creepy".

***************************************************

"Is moving to the country such a bad idea?", Howard said to Vince when they got home. "I mean, we both miss having animals around: we could have our own horses or llamas. And there's the wild fields and hedgerows to forage from, and we could live near woods – it would be a little bit like having the forest back, wouldn't it?".

"And what about our music career?", demanded Vince. "How is that going to fit in with the llamas and jam making? And we'd be catching a train so late at night from the club that we wouldn't get home until nearly morning".

"We don't have to keep being The Mighty Boosh", said Howard. "Not if we don't want to".

Vince looked distraught, almost tearful, which wasn't like him.

"How can you say that? Being in The Mighty Boosh was always how I knew we would be together forever, because you said it was me and you all the way. You promised we'd be musical partners until the end".

"Yes, but I'm making a new promise now: to be your husband forever. You don't have to be my musical partner to be with me any more".

"What would we do instead?", asked Vince, looking bereft.

"Whatever we wanted", said Howard, putting his arms around Vince to comfort him. "You could have your own fashion label, or sell your artwork, or we could buy a printing press and publish your Charlie books – we'd be like Virginia and Leonard Woolf. I could work as an actor, or a jazz musician, or finish that novel I only ever wrote the first sentence to. The point is, we can choose any future for ourselves that we like".

"I just want to be in The Mighty Boosh", said Vince. "That's all I ever wanted".

"And how long do you think we'll keep doing that for?", asked Howard, giving Vince a little kiss. "Will we be doing it when we're in our fifties or sixties, do you think?".

"Yeah, why not?", said Vince. "Mick and Keith are still going, and they're about a thousand".

"You know, if we didn't spend too much on a flat, we could maybe even buy The Velvet Onion off Fossil and manage the club", Howard suggested. "You'd be great at doing that".

"Yeah, he'd probably sell it to us for some handjobs and a couple of blowies", grinned Vince.

"Anyway, we don't have to decide now", said Howard. "But it's worth thinking about".

Howard had certainly given Vince plenty to think about, and it was a strange feeling that getting married to Howard meant that his whole future was now a wide open sea, not the cosy little harbour he had always imagined.

************************************************

In the end, after much discussion, Vince and Howard decided that they still wanted to be The Mighty Boosh, and still wanted to live in the same area so they could be near the club, which they might or might not consider buying. Vince was sure he didn't want to have children straight away, not wanting to share Howard with anyone else since they'd waited so long to be together. Howard was sure he didn't want to spend too much money.

So they decided to stick with their original plan of buying a two or three bedroom flat around the Hackney area. If their plans changed, they could always buy a cottage in Highgate or a goat shed in Kent later. And Vince said house-hunting was doing his head in and he was still convinced Royle was trying to have sex with them, so he said Howard could buy anything he wanted, and he was sure he would like it too. Which rather ruined Royle's plan of using Vince to get to Howard – perhaps Vince even knew that. He could be quite astute himself, sometimes.

*************************************************

The following Wednesday night, Vince and Howard were in bed, their limbs tangled together as they kissed passionately. They didn't always kiss each other on the mouth – sometimes they kissed the other's nipples, or in a line down the stomach, or between the thighs, or ... Look, I'm not a tour guide to kissing Howard and Vince: just think about where you'd like to kiss them, and that's probably where they liked to kiss as well.

Vince suggested to Howard that now he knew he probably wouldn't kill Vince by bumming him, it might be time for Howard to get in some experience before the honeymoon.

"Okay", agreed Howard, who understood that if his particular kink was occasional rough sex, he'd better actually get the sex part right before progressing any further. "Except don't you want to spend loads of time practicing together and getting used to the idea first?".

"No you berk – I want to get bummed right _now_!", whined Vince. "I've been waiting ages already".

Howard thought Vince made a fair point, so he got the Boots and began preparing him. Howard's fingers were so long that they made Vince gasp a little, but they were also gentle, with an insinuating touch. Howard had always been very talented with his hands, and knew how to please Vince with them, teasing the place which made Vince moan and soak himself.

Vince didn't bother sticking to the usual Boots formula, because when you're about to be bummed by a rampant stallion like Howard, you don't muck about doing complex mathematics – you just use the whole tube of Boots on every surface involved, and hope for the best.

To Howard's surprise, Vince got on top of him, which was another sign of Vince's astuteness, because this meant that Vince was in control of what happened, and the pace that it occurred. I suspect Vince had been thinking about this and planning it for a long time. Maybe years. (Okay, definitely years.)

Even so, at first Howard thought Bollo had been right after all, and in fact hadn't gone far enough in his pessimism, because it was hurting Howard too. And Vince swore his head off and thought there just wasn't enough Boots in the world to make this work. But after a while mutual pain began turning to mutual pleasure, and Vince ventured to take in just a little more Howard. He was receiving incontrovertible proof that Howard didn't just have eight pairs of socks in his pants, anyway. It's not possible for eight pairs of even the thickest socks to feel like Howard.

"Is it too much for you, Vince?", Howard asked anxiously.

"Yeah it's too much – but it makes me want more of it at the same time", said Vince, taking in a bit more Howard with a little groan.

"How does it make you feel?", Howard asked, his voice all up north and down dirty, a sure sign he was getting really turned on.

"Greedy", said Vince, shifting around a bit on Howard. "Like stuffing my mouth with a whole packet of Strawberry Bootlaces and going mental on the sugar hit".

Whether it was the feel of Vince moving, or being compared to a whole packet of Strawberry Bootlaces, or both, Howard began losing his mind over what seemed like the cruelly slow and careful increments of himself that Vince was taking in.

"Please Vince, go a bit faster", he begged, caressing Vince's hips in encouragement, and arching his own. "Please, I need more".

Vince could tell he was driving Howard wild, which was a new experience for him. In bed, Howard usually looked as if he was falling deeper and deeper in love with Vince, or had an expression of earthy satisfaction on his face, or even just manifested a vast relief, as if it was something he had desperately needed for a long time. Vince knew he made Howard happy, but making him beg and plead gave him a beguiling sense of power. It was beguiling enough to make him want to speed up a little more.

Vince licked his lips as he said teasingly, "Maybe just a little bit faster, you jazzy freak". His movements sped up almost imperceptibly, and he made a noise in the back of his throat.

"I can't stand this", said Howard in what sounded like agony. "I need to fuck you. Please", he remembered to add.

"No way", said Vince prudently. "You have to learn a lot more self-control before you're allowed to be in charge". But he relented slightly, and took in a greater proportion of Howard.

Howard made a noise of frustration, but could see the logic of what Vince was saying. He wished they'd started this a lot earlier, and knowing it was all his own fault they hadn't was making him feel even more frustrated. He submitted to letting Vince be in charge, and tried to control his impatience. Howard had thought bumming was something that Vince would have to learn to get used to, but it was actually he who was going to have the real education.

"I seriously don't think I can last much longer", he panted to Vince after a while.

"Probably not a bad thing", Vince admitted. "Put some Boots on your hands, and when you're ready, pull me off at the same time".

*************************************************

Afterwards, a sticky Howard kissed Vince over and over again.

"Howard, you're so fucking big", said Vince as he flopped into his arms, and he didn't scream it out or purr it or anything, just noted it as a simple statement of fact.

"Too big?", asked Howard anxiously.

"Well I'm still alive", said Vince cheekily.

"And?".

"Mm, if we keep going I might end up being a size queen", grinned Vince.

"We probably need a lot more practice doing that", murmured Howard suggestively.

"Yeah not for a while", said Vince. "I need recovery time".

"Remember I always use to joke that I'd bum you once a week on Wednesdays so you could spend the rest of the week recovering before looking forward to it again?", said Howard.

"Brilliant plan", muttered Vince, snuggling into Howard's shoulder.

"And then I said you could bum me all the other nights of the week".

"Genius".

*****************************************************

"And you're sure we won't have babies doing this?", Howard asked in some concern.

"No you tit – nobody gets babies from bumming", Vince said in exasperation. "And we're using protection anyway".

"Well in Health class they said that sometimes fails", Howard said huffily.

Vince had explained to Howard where babies came from, and there was nothing alarming at all about two men having a baby, but he wanted to make quite sure of all the details.

Vince had also got Howard up to speed on how men and women have babies together, and Howard now said it didn't sound in any way scary, and he must have only fainted because he had his hands half over his eyes and hadn't been able to see the video properly.

"I completely misinterpreted what the doctor was doing there", he confessed .

Vince rolled his eyes. Unbelievable, he thought. Only it was Howard, so only too believable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more about the original satsuma fight between Howard and Vince, see "Satsumas Are Not the Only Fruit".
> 
> Leroy's estate agent brother was mentioned briefly in "Feel I Could Touch the Sky". At that time, Leroy had apparently not spoken to his brother for a while. 
> 
> It was in a stage show that Howard mentioned that Wednesday was bumming day. In "Of Men and Muses", I elaborated this into a joke Howard made with Vince.
> 
> I presume people have babies in Howard and Vince's world the same way we do in ours – except it wouldn't make any sense for the class to start with two women (no matter how you get a baby, a man and a woman have to be involved at some point, even if very distantly), so either they do it some other way, or it's just a joke. Don't bother trying to figure it out, it's not science fiction. I'm not sure what Howard thought he saw in the video, but I'd guess he was watching a baby being born, and due to having his eyes half-covered, misunderstood the role of the doctor in delivering the baby.


	14. Mod and Rocker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what you'll think of this chapter, but apart from it being part of the story's over-arching theme, and clearing up a few points, it's something I always wanted to see on the show for some reason – although it would have been handled very differently there.

The Mighty Boosh had a gig at The Velvet Onion, and Rick and his film crew were there to get some footage. I realise I have probably given you the false impression that Rick did most of his filming at the flat and concentrated on Howard and Vince's relationship, but actually he more often than not wanted footage of their concerts and rehearsals.

I mean it _was_ a music documentary, so there were lots of interviews about their musical influences and methods of working. Howard had given very lengthy and technical monologues about his various instruments, no doubt incomprehensible to all but music specialists, which Rick would almost certainly cut down to about thirty seconds designed simply to show how clever Howard was. Vince had given lots of chats about his costume and stage designs that would probably all be left in because they were so entertaining.

Howard took note of where Rick was filming from, and it seemed as if he wasn't just getting their nostrils in shot, which was good. He could see the prince with a few friends at the gig, using his free tickets, trying to appear as if this wasn't a boring royal obligation organised by his grandmother's secretary, with only partial success. Howard tried not to feel resentful about getting free tickets for someone who probably didn't want them and could have easily paid for them himself. (And rightly so – it had been Howard who offered them, after all).

Howard also saw the tall young woman dancing at the front near the stage, and Vince seemed to have advised her on her clothing as well as her hair, because she no longer looked scruffy. She was wearing a knee length black skirt with a checked black and white top and flat shoes – the Mod look was the real giveaway that Vince had helped her with her wardrobe choices. She now seemed artfully dishevelled rather than as if she'd been pulled through a hedge backwards.

However, what Howard really noticed was that she was with a boyfriend: a young man, barely more than a youth, who was a little shorter than his girlfriend. Howard couldn't help paying more attention to the youth than the young woman, because he was rather like Vince – thin and lithe, with pale skin, large eyes, and a shock of thick dark hair. He wore tight jeans, high-heeled boots, black leather jacket, and a purple shirt embroidered in silver thread: the Rocker to his girlfriend's Mod.

Howard was getting the wholly unwanted and extremely inconvenient dick twitch which only Vince, or someone who resembled Vince, could give him. Howard tried very hard not to look at the youth as he needed to concentrate on what he was doing, but somehow he kept him giving him shifty little glances. The tall woman smiled and laughed as she danced with her arms around her boyfriend, cupping his apple-cheeked little buttocks in her hands. Howard tried really, really hard not to look at that – I promise you, it was a sincerely heroic failure on his part.

Of course the female version of me would end up with her own Vince, he thought. It was just typical, really.

*************************************************

After the gig, Vince was swamped by a mob of fans wanting photos and autographs, trying to hug and kiss him, and pushing yet more gifts into his hands. It was left up to Howard to meet the prince backstage, and it was a strange thought that he was seeing his future king face to face.

History tells us that there are two basic types of English kings. One is awkward, shy and diffident, highly reluctant to take the throne, being far more interested in some tedious hobby like stamp collecting, trainspotting, or Lego construction. The other is a handsome, charismatic rogue, not really interested in ruling either, but embracing monarchy with enthusiasm as a good way to have wild parties and massive amounts of sex.  
It was clear that the prince was destined to be the first type of king – and if history had taken 870 different twists and turns at crucial points, Howard would have been destined to be that type of king as well, and stationery villages and jazz would have become popular pastimes. Of course, a different 870 crucial twists and turns, and Howard would have been dead, or never been born, or a woman, or Vince's twin brother, so let's not get too attached to that particular version of history. Like Howard said, it's all meaningless.

Both Howard and the prince being shy and awkward, the conversation wasn't exactly like flowing like a mountain stream, and Howard desperately wished Vince was there to help things along with his bubbling exuberance and charm.

"I'm afraid the concert wasn't exactly your idea, sir", Howard said.

"Please don't call me Sir", the prince said earnestly. "Everyone just calls me by my first name".

"Oh sorry – I just meant a general sort of sir. Not the Your Highness sort of Sir", said Howard, flurried.

"I see what you did there, very good", said the prince with an appreciative chuckle. "But you mustn't think I didn't enjoy myself – I mean er, that musical thing you did at the end, and the um, interesting costumes and such".

"I apologise for dragging you to this", said Howard. "I was told by ... your grandmother ... that you were a big fan of our music".

"Oh well, you know old people – Granny didn't quite know who you were; she's a tiny bit deaf".

"Who does she think we are?", Howard asked curiously.

"Um, I think a sort of a supergroup made up of Bush and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones", said the prince in embarrassment.

There was nothing for Howard to do but to carefully write down the prince's address so he could add him to his Christmas card list.

**************************************************

Howard had just farewelled the prince, remembering to call him by his first name and not bow and scrape to him, when Vince came into the dressing room, annoyingly too late to help Howard entertain royalty.

"Someone you've got to meet here", Vince said with an excited grin.

He had his arm around the tall woman's shoulders in a friendly way, and she looked as if she had been happily smiling and laughing with Vince, but as soon she noticed Howard was in the dressing room she froze. She alternated between staring at Howard almost longingly, and looking at the floor as if it might offer a method of escape.

"Hello, I'm Howard Moon", said Howard, offering the woman his hand.

She gave it a dubious look, but took it awkwardly.

"I know. Um, pleased to meet you. Except we already met. Twice. I'm Holly Starr", she mumbled back at him, still staring at Howard in that unnerving way.

"Look, you don't want to lock me in your attic and eat all my hair, do you?", burst out Howard, recalling what Vince had said earlier.

"What? No!", said an understandably shocked Holly. "Except ... I _would_ like ... I mean if you don't mind ... it would be nice to have a lock of your hair", she blushed.

"Uh, okay", said Howard nervously, shuffling closer and stooping slightly so Holly could reach him.

With great efficiency, Holly took a little bag from one pocket of her skirt, and a tiny pair of scissors from the other, lopped off a lock of Howard's hair, and put it in the little bag before returning it to her skirt pocket. She gave Howard a bashful smile, and seemed pleased with her acquisition.

There was a series of staccato taps on the door, and Vince unlocked it to permit Holly's boyfriend to enter.

"Wotcher", he said with a grin, giving the room a general wave of greeting. He had a distinctive throaty voice.

"Oh Vince ... um ... Howard ... this is my partner, Viv", said Holly, looking glowingly shy and proud at the same time, and clearly quite unable to believe her luck. Howard guessed that was how he looked whenever he introduced Vince to people as his fiance.

"Viv Blanc, complete twonk", said Holly's boyfriend cheekily, shaking hands with Vince and then Howard.

Up close, Howard could see that he had large green eyes, not blue ones like Vince, and finer features. His hand didn't feel as strong as Vince's.

"Oh, Viv like Sir Viv Richards the cricketer", said Howard.

"No, Viv like Viv Albertine from The Slits", said Viv. "Short for Vivienne".

"Yeah, Viv is a Confuser like me", grinned Vince. "I think you confused Howard and all", he said in an aside to Viv.

Howard felt very confused. None of this was really adding up, and he thought that perhaps he needed to rethink some basic principles. He had a horrible feeling that he now understood those revolting people who said they didn't know if Vince was a boy or a girl, but they'd give him a good shagging anyway.

"But I thought ... I thought Holly had a crush on me", Howard said, almost sounding put out that it didn't seem to be the case after all.

Holly looked innocently amazed to hear this.

"Don't you get it Howard?", Vince said. "Holly doesn't have a crush on you – you're her music idol".

"Oh yeah, she _worships_ you", confirmed Viv with an eye roll. "Always banging on about Howard Moon and his massive talent. Gets quite boring, actually".

"I've been a fan of yours ever since seeing you deejay at teacher's training college", blushed Holly. "You were awesome – you'd play all classic jazz, then, when we were least expecting it, pow! You'd suddenly hit us with some Weather Report and totally blow my mind".

"So you follow The Mighty Boosh because of me?", asked Howard excitedly. "You're here just for the music and nothing else?".

Holly nodded, looking at the floor.

And just like that, Howard fell in love with Holly. It was as instant and pure as a mother falling in love with her newborn baby, a music idol loving his biggest fan. And now Howard understood why Vince acted as if he loved all his fans – it wasn't an act, he _did_ love them, every one.

Howard felt as if he would do anything for Holly: he wanted to bring out a twelve-disc box set of all his rehearsals, just so that she could wait for that important moment when he muttered a few words into the mike, even if she was the only person who bought it. In fact, bugger it – she could have the lot for free.

"I know you have to have all the other stuff", said Holly shyly. "I mean all the costumes and sets and the stage shows and everything. But what I'd most love is to just listen to you, only you and the music, in the dark with a single candle for light, holding hands with someone".

Howard beamed, because that was exactly how he and Lester always listened to jazz together.

"See what I have to put up with?", said Viv, nonetheless sounding very affectionate. "And the great lanky thing looks like a bloody Art teacher".

"I _am_ an Art teacher, you daft bint", said Holly in fond exasperation.

"So you're both teachers?", asked Howard.

"Yeah, I teach Geography", said Viv.

"Oh really? My dad is a Geography teacher in Leeds", Howard said.

"Your dad isn't Percy Moon is he?", asked Viv with interest, her face lighting up as Howard nodded. "I did my teaching practice in Leeds under Percy – he was a wonderful mentor".

"Don't let her get started on precious Percy or we'll never hear the end of it", warned Holly.

"I absolutely love your dad", Viv said warmly to Howard. "He was so kind to the student teachers, and he's always super organised. Keeps order without any fuss. Really caring to all the kids. No favourites. And he's so _funny_! That dry wit of his".

"When she got back from Leeds she couldn't shut up about him", said Holly in irritation. "Basically she just wets her knickers over flipping Percy Moon".

"Well he does have that sexy older man thing going on", said Viv teasingly, as if knowing this would further annoy Holly.

It was annoying Howard as well. Did everyone find his father irresistible, or was it only weirdos like Vince and Viv?

"I'm afraid he just finds me a big fat disappointment", he said sourly to Viv.

"You must have a brother then", said Viv, "because he was always bragging about his son in London who was a musical genius, a jazz maverick, and could play any instrument. Did you ever lead a polar expedition?".

"Yeah sort of", said Howard. "I mean it was just me and Vince, years ago".

"Wow you went to the Arctic by yourselves, that's so brave", said Viv, sounding impressed. "Anyway, your dad went on about that all the time and how you weren't only a great artist following your dreams, you were a man of action as well. It really didn't sound to me like you're a disappointment to him, Howard".

Somehow, Howard wasn't quite sure how in happened, he and Viv were sitting together on a bench in the corner, talking alone. I think perhaps Viv was quite as astute as Vince in getting Howard to do what she wanted without him noticing.

"Where do you and Holly teach?", he asked her.

"At Queen Anne's School for Girls in Primrose Hill", said Viv. "Holly started there first, and when I finished teacher training she put in a good word for me. We were just friends then, we've always been best friends".

"That's an excellent school", Howard said. "I'd love our daughter Beatrice to go somewhere like that".

"I didn't know you and Vince had any children", said Viv in surprise. "How old is she?".

"Oh she's not born yet", said Howard. "Or conceived, either".

"Well that's good", grinned Viv. "Because the only way you can get your kid into Queen Anne's is by putting their name down before they're conceived. But you know, the tuition is really expensive".

"I'm expecting Beatrice to be a genius", said Howard, "so I was hoping she might get a scholarship".

"Yeah, start putting pressure on her before she's even conceived", said Viv mockingly. "That way she can be a big fat disappointment to you straight from birth".

Howard flushed. "Oh well, it doesn't really matter what school she goes to", he said. "As long as she's happy".

"I can't wait to have kids, myself", said Viv, "but Holly says we're with kids all day, and she doesn't know if she wants to go home to more of them".

"Vince wants to wait as well", said Howard. "He said he wants me all to himself for a while".

"I can understand that", said Viv with a teasing little smile, looking up at Howard through her long dark lashes.

Howard noticed that somehow Viv had gradually inched herself closer and closer to him on the bench, and was now sitting right beside him. He tried to think of something very suave and sophisticated to say to her that would let her know he was a man of the world.

"I know where lesbian babies come from", he said. "We did it in Health class at school".

Viv gave a snort of laughter.

"You're a real stitch Howard, you know that? You're so funny. But we should get back to Holly and Vince – they look like they're going all _Suspicious Minds_ on us".

Sure enough, he could see Holly and Vince standing with their arms around each other as if for comfort, staring at Howard and Viv with disapproval.

Viv took Howard's hand and pulled him off the bench, keeping it in hers as she led him back to the others.

"Would you mind terribly not seducing my music idol?", Holly said coldly to Viv.

Howard guiltily dropped Viv's hand.

"I thought he was your spirit animal", grinned Viv.

"That's enough from you missy, or you'll feel the back of my hand", said Holly, in what was clearly a well worn joke between them.

"The back of _your_ hand?", scoffed Viv. "It would be like getting smacked around by lumpy custard".

"I'll be all over you like a damp tea towel", threatened Holly.

"Come here, you arty weirdo", said Viv lovingly, pulling Holly into her arms.

"My womanchild", said Holly, gazing adoringly into Viv's eyes.

************************************************

"Thanks so much for the jam", Howard said in his goodbye to Holly. "It was ... er ... just what I needed at at the time".

"Glad you liked it", said Holly. "My grandmother taught me to make rosehip jam; she lives in Guildford and has masses of roses".

Howard looked shifty.

"But you know what Gran told me? Once she was just about to make rosehip jam, and when she went out into the garden, all the rosehips had been stripped from the bushes. She still talks about that: she calls it The Year Without Jam".

Howard coughed guiltily.

"I expect a flock of birds ate them or something", he said.

"Howard, I hope you don't mind about me taking a photo of you", said Holly shiftily.

For a moment Howard wondered if his obsessed fan had been hanging around the flat, secretly snapping him as he went for a bike ride or took out the rubbish.

"I mean, I know I didn't ask permission, but it just made a perfect photo for the website, and you ended up using it, so I thought perhaps you liked it", she continued.

"Website?".

"You know – Cool Sexy Gay Hackney. I've been running it for over a year now".

"Oh I didn't realise that ... that you were a photographer", said Howard. "No, I don't mind at all – Vince and I were thrilled to be included on the website. It's very good, and we loved the photo. You're very talented".

Holly looked radiant at this praise from her idol.

"You probably think it's weird me having the website", said Holly. "I don't even live in Hackney – Viv and I are in Camden".

"That's not weird", Howard reassured her. "It's okay to live in one borough but be interested in another. Our media manager is the same".

*************************************************

Vince was uncharacteristically quiet walking home from the club, and Howard had the feeling that he might be in the doghouse. Perhaps other engaged men also know that feeling sometimes.

"Nice couple", Howard said expansively. "We should have them over for dinner some time".

"Is that so you can do some partner-swapping?", asked Vince sulkily.

"Don't be ridiculous, Vince! They're gay!".

"No, only Holly is gay", Vince corrected him. "Viv swings both ways, and she looked like she was swinging your way and all".

"I think she does have a bit of a thing for my dad", Howard admitted. "Maybe I remind her of him".

Vince didn't look at all reassured by this, having personal knowledge of how easy it was to go from being attracted to Howard's dad to being attracted to Howard (with maybe a slight detour down Uncle Cedric along the way).

"Howard, are you quite sure that you're really a massive gay-ist?", asked Vince. "Because you were looking a bit borough-curious about Viv yourself".

Howard was silent for a moment, thinking it out.

"I think it's just that she reminds me of you", he said finally. "I only love and want you, but I feel an attraction to people who look like you. And at first I did think Viv was a man".

"Yeah, us Confusers do make everything more complicated", said Vince with a sly grin.

"I suppose so. And meeting Viv made me realise that even if you'd been a woman, I still would have loved and wanted you the same way I do when you're a man. So maybe I'm not a massive gay-ist – I'm just Vince-sexual, and only gay because you happen to be a man".

Vince gave a derisive snort.

"Well, I feel sorry for me as a woman", he said. "I would have been a delicate flower, pining after the distant Howard Moon, and having my fragile heart broken into a million pieces".

"Nonsense, you would have been a tough little Cockney bitch", said Howard bracingly. "You would have run rings around me and twisted me round your little finger, and I wouldn't have stood a chance".

"I don't think a woman could put up with you, Howard", said Vince seriously. "I think it's a good thing I'm a man after all – even a Confuser of a man".

"I think it's bloody fantastic that you're a man", said Howard, kissing him deeply and using both hands to demonstrate exactly why it was so fantastic Vince was a man.

Vince seemed to think it was pretty bloody fantastic being a man as well. The demonstration apparently made him feel manlier.

"And you've never Confused me, Vince – not once".

Maybe that's how a Confuser knows when someone truly loves them: they clearly see past the Confusion, right to their authentic self. Holly had never been Confused by Viv, either.

*************************************************

One hot Wednesday night Vince was sitting on Howard's lap in the living room. It was too hot to wear any clothes, so they weren't. It was really too hot to fool around, but they were doing it anyway, in a slow sleepy way that suited the sultry summer night. Vince had his head on Howard's shoulder as if he might just nod off there, and Howard kept dropping soft kisses on his lips that were keeping Vince from actually falling asleep.

Vince gently stroked the part of Howard that had now been proven beyond all reasonable doubt to be definitely not eight pairs of socks, and woke it up.

"You know, _this_ is what made me first fancy you", Vince said to him.

"What? How did that happen?", wondered Howard.

"I was in Fossil's office by myself, and I saw the nude photos of you", said Vince. "I went a bit mental looking at you, and I ended up wanking under his desk, looking at your photo".

"You little perv", murmured Howard approvingly, caressing Vince as if to reward him.

"You were just so big, and I kept thinking of what I'd like to do with you", went on Vince sleepily.

"Mm? Like what?", asked Howard.

"Oh ... everything. Wanted you in me. Every way", Vince replied.

"Sounds like you were already a size queen", commented Howard, trying not to sound smug and failing utterly.

"That was all your fault", said Vince, trying to sound innocent and failing utterly.

"So that's it? That's what attracted you to me?", asked Howard in mock disgust. "Not my good looks?".

"You're just a big scruffy northerner with no dress sense", said Vince teasingly.

"Not my brilliant mind?".

"Boring".

"Not my winning personality?".

"Nah, you were pretty grumpy with me most of the time", said Vince cheekily.

"I wonder why?", said Howard drily, but he kept kissing Vince.

Howard wished he could flirt and tease like Vince, but he knew it wouldn't work if he did. It would come out all wrong; sound too serious, as if he meant every word.

"So what first attracted you to me?", asked Vince.

"I don't rightly know, sir", Howard prevaricated.

"Make an assessment".

"First your beauty and courage", said Howard thoughtfully. "Then your imagination and humour, and later your sweetness and sunniness".

"Oh come _on_ ", complained Vince. "That's well soppy".

"Sorry, but I was attracted to your looks and your mind and your personality", said Howard sententiously, his hands between Vince's thighs.

"Give me something dirty", pleaded Vince.

"Oh I'm dirty", Howard assured him, using the tips of his fingers. "Filthy like an old shoe".

"Tell me the first time you ever wanked off thinking about me", suggested Vince.

"A gentleman doesn't wank and tell", said Howard primly, who had his own methods of teasing.

"I don't want you to be a gentleman", said Vince with an impatient wriggle. "I want you to be a horny bastard".

"Mm, let me think", said Howard. "Well I don't know if it was the _first_ time, but I remember sometimes at the zoo you'd lean right over the enclosure to feed the animals, and your trousers would look so tight against your sexy little arse".

"You liked that, did you?", asked Vince with an excited break in his voice.

"Yes, and sometimes you'd look up at me with this cheeky grin, as if you knew I was watching you and wanted to show off to me".

"And what did you think about when you saw that?", Vince whispered in Howard's ear.

"I'd think about bending you over, right where you were, ripping your trousers down, and bumming you senseless", Howard murmured back.

Vince gave a little moan.

"Do it now, Howard", he ordered. "Bend me over and bum me senseless, right now".

"Are you sure I'm ready for that?", asked Howard doubtfully.

" _I'm_ ready for it", said Vince. "Have you got any Boots handy?".

"Yes, I keep Boots in every room of the flat, just in case", said the ever-prepared Howard, reaching over for them.

Vince gave another little moan, this time of anticipation.

Howard had served his apprenticeship, learned a great deal of self-control, and it was time for his education in bumming to continue at a higher level.

Vince was tingling all over. He seriously couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once saw a documentary which, with great seriousness, designated everyone in the current royal family as either a George VI (shy nerd that doesn't want to rule, but does an adequate job once enthroned) or an Edward VIII (handsome devil who only wants to rule for their personal gain and is a popular nuisance). The idea was entertainingly silly enough that I extrapolated it to every king in history for the story. It was George VI who loved stamp collecting, and because of him it became a very popular hobby for several decades.
> 
> Holly is another example of someone going slightly over the top when loving Howard, even though she loves him as her music idol, not romantically. The idea of female versions of Howard and Vince was one that always intrigued me, and how they would relate to one another was quite a puzzle. You'll notice that even though Vince is rather jealous of Viv's very mild flirting with Howard, it is he who actually has the affectionate relationship with Holly, and they constantly hug and hold each other. Holly and Viv seem to have sorted out their feelings for each other earlier in life than Howard and Vince – I think Vince probably helped with that.
> 
> For the reason Howard acts shifty and guilty over Holly's grandmother's roses, see "Satsumas Are Not the Only Fruit". 
> 
> Howard's sexuality was always a bit of a mystery on the show and I don't know if his own assessment of being Vince-sexual is correct or not. Nor do I know if it's possible for someone's assessment of their own sexuality to be incorrect.
> 
> For Vince first seeing the nude photos of Howard, see "Of Men and Muses". Apparently this was when he first became consciously aware of his sexual attraction to Howard, although I'm sure it went back much further, and was based on many factors, not just one. For Howard becoming aroused by Vince at the zoo, see "The Best Laid Plans".


	15. The Blue Trolleybus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get hot and heavy on Howard and Vince's pre-honeymoon with the Moons, and Howard encounters prejudice from an unexpected quarter.

August arrived, and Howard and Vince took their annual summer holiday. Naboo didn't believe in them having holidays, and certainly not both of them at once, but Howard had patiently filled out all the correct forms in triplicate and presented them to Naboo. This level of bureaucracy was a magic Naboo didn't dare meddle with, and the fact that he couldn't read Howard's mind like everyone else's always unnerved him, so that he often did whatever Howard said. It was the reason Naboo really preferred dealing with Vince.

Naboo did raise an objection to Howard and Vince having four weeks holiday in August, and then _another_ two weeks off for their honeymoon in September, but Howard had filled out a bunch more forms with the ominous heading Matrimonial Recreation Leave, which had been countersigned by both a JP and a mid-level civil servant.

Naboo gave up the whole thing as a bad job and hired Adam back for the summer, with a young bloke named Steve as his assistant. Adam already had experience running the shop, and Steve was the sort of good-looking charmer who would help attract custom: luckily the two of them seemed to hit it off straight away.

**************************************************

Howard had agreed to spend the first half of the holidays in Leeds with his parents, who said they wanted to have time with he and Vince before they got married, and were likewise on _their_ summer holidays. Howard had a long list of worries about them staying with Rose and Percy, but top of the list was that he was sure it would interfere with their sex life, and Howard's moods went to pieces without regular sex.

However, Rose and Percy proved to be extremely tactful about going to bed early at night, claiming that they always turned in at this hour with a nice cup of cocoa, and also having long lie-ins in the morning, saying that after all they _were_ on holiday, and a bit of extra sleep did no one any harm. They generally went for a walk or a drive in the country by themselves in the afternoon, suggesting that Howard and Vince might like to have a little nap while they were gone.

On the first night before going up to bed, Percy had given an awkward cough and patted the wall appraisingly, like a horse dealer with a likely-looking mare.

"This is a proper, well-built house", he offered. "Good, thick sturdy walls. Not like these modern homes – walls like tissue paper, they have".

"And don't forget you're up another flight to stairs to us", said Rose soothingly, holding her mug of cocoa. "Your room's quite on the other side of the house".

"We've got our own bathroom", Percy said, "so the other one's yours. Take as long as you like in the shower, no one will disturb you".

"And we've got double glazing", Rose called down the staircase. "I mean, not that you have to keep the windows _shut_ or anything – the neighbours on that side are visiting family in Whitby, anyway".

Upon which they both said goodnight and went to bed with the satisfied air of having done their duty. Which is as about as close as your parents can get to telling you to have as much sex as you want without the whole thing getting really creepy.

**************************************************

So instead of Howard having a daily meltdown due to sexual deprivation, as he had anticipated, he and Vince were actually having more sex than usual. Howard couldn't believe how aroused sleeping in his childhood bedroom with Vince was making him. The room contained so many memories of long-ago holidays shared with Vince, and the two of them would lie in their single beds across from each other, and talk about other days and nights they remembered.

Even though the memories were fairly innocent (the day they broke a window playing football, the day Vince got sick after eating too many cakes, the night they had a pillow fight and Howard hurt his leg falling off the bed), their reminiscences always seemed to end with them jumping each other in a fever of passion. Perhaps it was those other memories, too nebulous to be put into words, which fuelled it. They were somewhere in the back of Howard and Vince's minds: an accidental touch followed by apologies, a shared glance that went nowhere.

Vince was always up for it, always ready for him. Begging for it, giving it, taking it, sharing it, full of ideas, open to anything. Sometimes they'd catch each other's eye, and say they suddenly had to dash upstairs for something they'd forgotten, returning twenty minutes later all serene and goofy, having forgotten whatever it was they forgot. _Did we say we'd forgotten something?_ , Howard wondered aloud, _because I don't remember that_ , while Vince giggled, and Rose and Percy looked knowing and indulgent.

A couple of times Howard woke Vince up in the night, saying he needed him right then and there. In these instances, there was only one thing that could be done, because despite what Vince had said before, it was actually he who was the screamer in bed, and sound carries at night. Vince was vocal whatever he did – bumming, being bummed, hand jobs, head jobs, getting off on each other. The only thing that shut him up was fellating Howard, because if anything could stop your gob, it was a big mouthful of Howard. So naturally Howard called Vince the midnight blower, and he was there in the night, blowing Howard away.

******************************************************

One evening they couldn't wait until Rose and Percy's 9.30 bedtime, so said they might take a twilight stroll around the garden before turning in. They went to the quietest part of the garden, out of sight of the house, where Howard leaned against a tree, and gently pulled Vince into his arms for a kiss. He hadn't intended anything else, but Vince was suddenly snogging him with desperation, fitting his groin into Howard's, and grinding on him as if they were two horny teenagers out the back of a boring school dance.

Previously, Howard wouldn't have rated being dry humped against the ash tree in his parents' garden as among his top fantasies, but there was something about having Vince push himself harder and harder into him that was unexpectedly erotic. He put his hands around Vince's slender hips, cupping his sexy little arse, and pulled him into his own body, his hardness answering Vince's, fabric tight and strained between them. Their lips and tongues mashed together, bits of bark and leaves fell in Howard's hair, and they moved faster and faster against each other.

"Oh fuck, Howard", moaned Vince. "Fuck you feel genius ... so fucking big and hard ... sending me fucking mental, you are".

Howard murmured encouragement into Vince's ear.

"Want you now", Vince said fiercely. "Give me what I want ... harder, yeah just there. Fuck, Howard ... oh fuck ... now".

Vince ran out of language and groaned before falling against Howard's broad chest and nuzzling his throat.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Howard", Vince sighed lovingly, as he kissed Howard's neck. "You're the most amazing fuck".

"Hello Mrs Cresswell", said Howard, with a slight hand wave over the fence (the other hand still clutching Vince's bum). "Yes, it _is_ a lovely evening. Thank you, you have one too".

And that's how they discovered the neighbours were back from Whitby.

*********************************************************

Howard sometimes wondered how the honeymoon could compete with the insanely good sex he was having in Leeds, and how would he ever maintain the same level of ardour he felt in the bed he had slept in as a teenager? Even better was when they shared Vince's bed – it seemed as if it was imbued with the essence of all the other Vinces; the ones who had got away, the ones he had missed out on. That thought made him horny beyond belief; he had an almost permanent raging hard-on.

Howard briefly considered getting Janet to cancel the surprise honeymoon he had made her go back in time to book so that he and Vince could spend their honeymoon at his parents' house instead, fucking each other into oblivion. Then he realised how cross Janet would be, and remembered he was from Yorkshire, not Norfolk. Something told him neither Vince nor his parents would be that happy about it either.

In short, Howard was discovering the delights of holiday sex. No matter where you go, no matter what the weather is like, you always seem to end up having more orgasms than you thought medically possible and trying every conceivable position, including ones that you would have said broke the laws of physics. You see, this is why we all need four weeks holiday every year, no matter how much Naboo grumbles about it. Adam and Steve can always cover for us if necessary.

*******************************************************

One afternoon, Howard and Vince had just had a marathon bout of sex during their "nap time" while Rose and Percy were out. It had made Howard think that maybe they needed to have a spare room with two single beds in it when they got their own place – there was something about sex in a single bed that he found very exciting. It was so cosy and confined.

"I wonder what Mum and Dad do every afternoon when they go out", Howard said lazily.

"They fuck", said Vince, in the manner of someone patiently explaining something obvious to a person who's a bit thick.

"Don't be ridiculous, Vince! They're my _parents_!".

"So? They need sex, just like we do".

"My parents stopped having sex the day after I was conceived", Howard said firmly. "I have to believe that in order to maintain a slim shred of sanity".

"Howard, don't you think all the early nights and late lie-ins are for them as well?", suggested Vince, obviously not caring about Howard's mental health.

"And how exactly are they having sex in the afternoons?", Howard demanded. "I mean, right now they're in Wakefield visiting Nana and Grandpa".

"Mm, and Wakefield is twenty minutes away, so why did they need to leave an hour before they were meant to get there?".

"Holiday traffic", insisted Howard.

"No way, they pulled over somewhere so your dad could pound your mum like yesterday's beef", Vince said.

"Are you insane? You're saying that my parents are having sex in their car in the middle of the afternoon on a four-lane highway in peak holiday season. Do you know how unlikely that sounds?".

"Haven't you ever heard of taking a different route, somewhere quieter?", Vince said. "Have you heard of fields, did you know you can rent a hotel room just for an hour? Or maybe they're having a quick knee-trembler in your grandparents' bathroom or something? I mean, we got it on behind a tree".

"Yes and wasn't that a brilliant idea?", Howard snorted. "Mrs Cresswell saw and heard the whole bloody thing!".

"Anyway, I know your parents have a good sex life", said Vince with the quiet certainty of someone who knows they're right, no matter who argues against them.

"I feel afraid to ask, but how do you know?".

"I saw their sex tape", said Vince.

"My parents do _not_ have a sex tape!", said a horrified Howard, almost shouting. "And if they did, when would you have seen it?".

"A few days ago when you went over to visit the Cresswells with your mum and dad", said Vince. "I was looking for something to watch, and they left it in the machine".

"And you _watched_ it?", shrieked Howard.

"Yeah, I was bored", Vince said. "Tell you what Howard, I'll be well pleased if you have the stamina your dad has when you're his age".

"You _kept_ watching it once you realised what it was?", said a shattered-looking Howard.

"Yeah, it was quite sexy", said Vince. "I mean you weren't there and we hadn't been together for hours, so things build up, don't they?".

"You _wanked off_ to my parents' sex tape?", demanded a furious Howard. "You've gone wrong, Vince. Really wrong. This is Yorkshire, not Norfolk".

"They had a good time on their holiday to Blackpool", mused Vince. "I mean the pier seems to be a favourite spot for them, put it that way".

Howard suddenly stopped looking apoplectic, and gave an unamused chuckle.

"Oh I get it", he said. "You're pranking me, aren't you Vince? You're getting me upset about something, and then you're going to tell me it was all a joke, aren't you?".

Vince didn't say anything, but left the room, coming back a few minutes later holding a tape.

"Here it is, Howard", said Vince. "Watch it yourself, and see if I'm telling the truth".

"I'm not watching my parents' sex tape!".

"But you said it isn't a sex tape, and I'm pranking you", said Vince. "So it's safe for you to watch, isn't it?".

Howard looked uncertain. He was almost sure Vince was making it up, but on the other hand, the possibility that he wasn't was too horrific to contemplate. He was caught in a bind, unable to verify if Vince was lying or not.

"I don't need to look at it", Howard said at last. "I know it's not a sex tape, and I know you're making it up".

"Sounds like a sensible choice to decide that", said Vince with suspect glibness.

Howard tried not to fret over it, and failed miserably. It made a serious dent in their holiday sex life: for the next couple of days they were down to only three times a day, and Howard's heart wasn't really in it after the first two.

A few nights later, Rose asked Howard if he'd like to see the video they took on their holiday to Blackpool the previous summer, not noticing that he went went white at her words.

"And the pier is a really special place for us", Rose went on happily as she pressed PLAY, to Howard's discomfort.

The video showed Rose and Percy walking on the pier, holding hands, before Percy suddenly whirled his wife into a few waltz steps while she giggled, blowing kisses to whoever was holding the video camera.

Howard gave Vince a grim I-knew-it look.

"Different video", Vince mouthed back smugly.

*******************************************************

Towards the end of their holiday, Howard told Vince he was borrowing his parents' car that night to see some old friends in Doncaster at a jazz club where he used to play. He hoped Vince wouldn't be too bored without him, but promised not to stay out too late, and said they would do something special together the following night to make up for it.

"So I'm not invited?", said Vince in a hurt tone. "Ashamed of me, are you?".

"No Vince, of course not", Howard replied. "I thought that you wouldn't be able to come because of your jazz allergy, that's all. I don't want you getting ill on holiday".

"I don't think I really am allergic to jazz", Vince admitted. "I think it just made sick with jealousy".

"Jealous of jazz?".

"Yeah, jealous because you loved it so much, and it seemed to take up all your attention. You never even noticed me when you were in a jazz trance. And I was jealous of you going off with all your jazzy mates, and I'd be left out. It felt as if you thought I was too stupid to bother with".

Howard gave Vince a little kiss, and held both his hands.

"But you're not jealous now?".

"No. I was probably being a bit of a tit about it, if I'm honest", Vince confessed.

"Well, I'm glad you can come after all", said Howard. "I want to show off my fiance".

"What do people wear to jazz clubs?", Vince enquired, now in serious fashion mode.

"Oh usually dark colours – black is pretty popular", said Howard. "Corduroy trousers are a safe bet, maybe matched with a rolltop jumper and a nice jacket. A pork pie hat always goes down well, because Charles Mingus wrote a song about it: it's like a clever in-joke. And jazz is American, so a slight American influence in your look can be a good idea".

Vince seemed to be taking very careful note of everything Howard was saying. So Howard probably shouldn't have been surprised when Vince later appeared wearing a white crop top covered in rhinestones, white flares, white faux fur jacket, white cowboy boots, and a white cowboy hat.

"How do I look?", Vince asked, twirling about in front of Howard.

"You look fantastic", said Howard. "I can't help noticing it's nothing like what I said, though".

"What do you mean?", asked Vince. "You said a nice jacket and an American influence – I think this jacket is pretty nice, and cowboys are very American".

"I did say most people went with dark colours", Howard reminded him, "and I mentioned corduroy trousers, a rolltop jumper, and a pork pie hat".

"You never wear what everyone else is wearing", Vince said complacently. "It's the first rule of being a fashion icon".

"So ... if everyone else was wearing a suit or an evening gown, you would wear leather drainpipes and a tie-dyed blouse?".

"Exactly", said Vince. "You're getting it now".

Howard did get it. He saw now why he would never be able to blend in with the crowd ever again.

"Anyway, how do _I_ look?", asked Howard, wondering if Vince was going to make him change to match his own outfit.

Vince surveyed Howard's bottle green heavy-gauge corduroy trousers, black rolltop jumper, black jacket, and black and white houndstooth patterned pork pie hat.

"Like a total jazzy freak", said Vince admiringly. "But put a belt on – those trousers need it".

Vince was right, of course. He always was.

*****************************************************

On the drive to Doncaster, Howard told Vince a little bit about the friends he was catching up with at the club.

"We were all in a jazz band together called Swamp Cabbage, years and years ago: The Blue Trolleybus in Doncaster was our scene. Ernie played guitar – he was older than the rest of us, and ran a pretty tight ship. Kevin was on keyboards; Kev the Keys we called him. Jimmy was the drummer, and I was trumpet, of course".

Howard glanced into the back seat to check his trumpet was safe; he hoped there might be a chance to have an impromptu jam with the guys at some point during the evening.

"Well, I say jazz band, but we were really jazz-funk ... maybe a thirty/seventy split between funk and jazz. Some nights those cats were so out of control, it was more like a forty-five/fifty-five split. Crazy times, crazy times".

When they arrived at The Blue Trolleybus, Howard gallantly nipped around to open Vince's car door for him, and escorted him into the club. A woman in a black dress was singing _Lover Man_ with a mournful rasp in her voice, and Vince wondered if he might have jazz allergies after all. The music was really gloomy, and everyone looked proper serious. No wonder Howard had been a bit down a lot of the time before they became a couple.

Howard looked around to see if he could see his friends, before he heard Kevin call out, "Got your glasses on, Howard?", and turned to greet them all. Vince hung back, so Howard could say hi to his mates by himself.

"Ernie, Kev, Jimmy – you have to meet my fiance", said Howard. "We're getting married in about a fortnight".

They seemed stunned.

"I always thought you were a confirmed bachelor, Howard", said Ernie.

Howard took Vince's hand, and drew him closer to the group. "This is my husband-to-be, Vince Noir", Howard announced, looking glowingly shy and proud at the same time, and clearly quite unable to believe his luck.

They seemed even more stunned, but then Vince was grinning and saying hello, all charm. Ernie, Kev, and Jimmy remembered their manners, and said _nice to meet you_ , and _congratulations_ , and _what the hell are you thinking, marrying this bloke hahahaha_ , and all the normal things you say when introduced to someone's fiance.

Just then, someone approached Howard to ask if he'd mind accompanying the woman in the black dress, as the next song really needed a trumpet soloist. Howard beamed and said he already had his trumpet ready before scurrying off.

"So Vince, er ... how long have you known Howard?", asked Jimmy.

"Nearly all my life", said Vince. "We went to school together and were friends for ages, and then we started going out about ten years ago".

"Oh, you're _that_ Vince", said Jimmy. "Howard mentioned he had a schoolfriend named Vince who played football and loved sport. We imagined someone ... totally different".

"I did play football", said Vince. "I've got the muscular thighs to prove it, makes getting into these flares difficult I can tell you. And I'm still a Leeds United fan – spent all my school holidays in Leeds with the Moons".

"Are you into jazz, Vince?", asked Kev.

"I'm not clever enough to understand jazz", said Vince modestly. "I leave that up to brainy genius types like Howard and you blokes".

Everyone seemed pleased with that answer – so Vince had been quite clever enough.

"Hey Vince, do you know this one?", asked Ernie. "What do you call a jazz musician with no girlfriend or boyfriend?".

"Married?", smiled Vince.

"Good one", chuckled Kev.

"No, the answer is _homeless_ ", said Ernie.

"Howard's never been homeless, even before he got a boyfriend", Vince said. "He always lived with me, including when we were friends".

"It's just a joke", explained Ernie. "Saying jazz musicians don't have a lot of money".

"Howard's got money", said Vince proudly. "He's a financial wizard and a millionaire".

They all looked very disbelieving at this information.

"Er, and how exactly did Howard become a millionaire?", asked Jimmy, who looked the most disbelieving.

"Doing Danish porn", said Vince airily. "He's an international sex symbol".

They all stared at Howard playing trumpet on the stage, trying to imagine him as an international sex symbol porn star millionaire. Their imaginations failed them.

"Doesn't Howard look cool playing trumpet?", said Vince dreamily. "I always wanted to marry someone really cool, but I didn't know it was going to be Howard. He's just made another of my dreams come true".

Leroy, Naboo, and Bollo were used to Vince going all soppy over Howard with a dopey expression on his face, but it was a startlingly new experience for Ernie, Kev, and Jimmy to have someone looking like that about Howard.

Vince said he was going to the bar to get he and Howard a drink, and asked if anyone else wanted anything. They all shook their heads mutely.  
Howard returned, too much on a trumpety jazz high to notice that his old friends were staring at him speculatively, even suspiciously. He started asking if there was any chance of them having a jam session some time, but didn't get very far.

"Well, _you're_ a dark horse, aren't you?", said Ernie.

"Some call me the brown stallion", said Howard with a little smirk into his moustache.

"Vince was saying you're a millionaire", said Jimmy searchingly.

Howard decided he really must have a talk to Vince about how some things needed to be kept private. He muttered vaguely about careful saving and wise investment, and how terrible London property prices were.

"He said you made Danish porn films", Kev asked, seeming quite interested in the answer.

"They weren't porn", Howard said firmly. "They were art films, and extremely tasteful. The nudity was for symbolic purposes only, and was integral to the plot – not gratuitous in the least".

"You know, we never thought you'd marry someone like Vince", Ernie began in his slow, careful way. He seemed to have elected himself group spokesperson.

"Yeah, I mean he's quite a looker, isn't he?", said Kev. "Not what we thought you'd ever pick out".

"Who did you _think_ I'd marry?", said Howard in some irritation. "Some absolute minger?".

"We didn't think you'd marry _anybody_ ", said Jimmy. "You never seemed the marrying type".

"And if you did marry someone, we thought they'd be plain and sensible", said Ernie.

"Well I decided on someone beautiful and glamorous instead", said Howard, thinking this was one of the stupidest conversations he'd had in years.

"What do you and Vince do in London?", Ernie asked, as if patiently gathering evidence for a case he was mounting. "I mean, what do you both do for a living?".

"We work in a shop", Howard said. "Sells gifts and trinkets, you know the sort. And we're in a band together – don't know if you've heard of it, The Mighty Boosh".

"How is that possible?", asked Ernie softly, as if his case was getting a bit stronger. "Vince said he doesn't know anything about jazz".

"It's not a jazz band", said Howard.

Definite ice was forming in the air; it was getting positively frosty at The Blue Trolleybus.

"What sort of band is it, then?", demanded Jimmy.

"I guess basically it's electro", began Howard.

"Electro?", said Ernie sharply, as if the case was about to close with a sharp click. "You play electro music?".

"Well a sort of electro/prog rock/avant-garde blues sort of thing", said Howard. "It spans many genres. And we do these folk rap songs called crimps".

"Any jazz at all?", asked Kev.

"Yeah, a definite jazz-funk fusion sound in there as well", said Howard. "I've been described in the underground music press as a jazz maverick".

"So what percentage of your music is jazz?", asked Jimmy scornfully.

"Maybe a ten/ninety split?", said Howard. "But don't worry – sometimes in the middle of a set: bam! I suddenly lay down a Weather Report cover or something. Totally blows their minds".

"Just ten percent is jazz?", said Kev, his broad kindly face looking rather worried.

"Well ten percent jazz-funk", said Howard. "We've got a song called _Sea Funk_ – that's more or less one hundred percent funk all by itself".

"I can't believe what I'm hearing", said Jimmy in disgust. "You have the nerve to come into The Blue Trolleybus, after forming a band that's basically electro. Yes, don't try to dress it up or give it fancy names – you're in an electro band!".

"We're not trying to judge you", said Ernie judgmentally. "It's just that you're asking us to accept your ... band lifestyle ... and ... music choices, and I'm not sure that we can do that".

"I definitely can't", said Jimmy. "Electro music? Ugh, makes me feel sick just thinking about it".

"I think you're both being too hard on Howard", said Kev. "Once or twice I've listened to The Human League. I mean it's normal to experiment, right? But going the whole hog and actually forming an electro band? I'm not sure about that".

"Look, Vince seems like a very nice bloke", said Ernie in a calm, rational voice. "He's a good looking feller, lots of charm, and we can see why you like him".

"I don't _like_ Vince, I _love_ him!", snapped Howard. "I don't marry people I only _like_!".

"But maybe he's led you astray", went on Ernie judiciously. "He seems to have lured you into an alternative electro lifestyle that can only lead to misery in the end".

"Don't you dare blame this on Vince!", said a furious Howard. "I formed an electro band with him entirely of my own free will, and he's been my musical partner and collaborator for more than ten years. Being in a band with him has brought me nothing but happiness, not misery!".

"I just can't see how you can still claim to be into jazz while being in an electro band", said Jimmy with finality. "It's dishonest, that's what it is. You're not a jazz maverick, you're a jazz fraud".

"You can be in a band that plays one style of music, and still enjoy music from another style", said Howard. "Be a bit more broad-minded, Jimmy".

Just then Vince wandered up, and handed Howard a beer.

"Sorry I took so long", he apologised. "I had to explain to the barman how to make a proper flirtini. What are we all talking about?".

******************************************************

Howard was very quiet on the drive home.

"Alright, Howard?", Vince asked.

"I'll be okay", Howard said. "It just came as a shock, that's all. I didn't expect them to attack me for being in an electro band. And I got angry when they said things about you".

"What things?", asked Vince in surprise.

"They said you seemed very nice, and were good-looking and charming", said Howard bitterly.

"Bastards", said Vince. "Thanks for defending my honour then, Howard".

"You don't understand. They made it sound as if I wasn't suited to someone like you. And they said you lured me into an electro lifestyle".

"Well I sort of did, didn't I?".

"Ernie was such a supercilious git", Howard went on savagely. "And Jimmy is a complete arse – I don't know what Kev sees in him, I really don't. I don't like throwing words like this around carelessly, but I think Jimmy is an electrophobe".

"Maybe you're being a bit unfair to Jimmy", Vince said. "You know, the first time I ever played you electro music, you said it made you feel physically ill, and you smashed my cassette".

"Oh my God, I did too", said Howard in horror. "I was completely electrophobic".

"And now you're in an electro band, so you know people can change. You probably gave them too much to take on board all at once. You should have dropped little hints bit by bit over the years – told them you listened to some Kraftwerk and it was okay, then later that you jammed with Gary Numan".

"I did dump a lot on them", admitted Howard. "Meeting you was enough of a surprise for one night; I shouldn't have told them about The Mighty Boosh as well".

"Don't worry Howard – they'll be okay with it in the end", said Vince. "I thought Kev seemed pretty accepting, actually".

"Yeah he apologised to me before we left, and said he didn't completely understand my choices, but he'll support me whatever kind of music I play", Howard said.

"He'll talk sense into Jimmy, I can just tell", Vince said comfortingly.

"The whole thing's got me totally stressed", said Howard. "I wanted this to be a fun, relaxing evening listening to jazz and hanging out with old friends, and now I'm a bundle of nerves".

"Well, pull over somewhere and we'll take care of it", said Vince.

"Are you suggesting that we have sex in my parents' car on the A1 on a Friday night during peak holiday season?", demanded Howard. "Do you know how insane that sounds?".

"Yep", grinned Vince.

"Okay then", agreed Howard.

Because Vince's little white crop top had been driving him mad all night, showing off his long, flat stomach – even the scar left by the hair straightener got him aroused. Howard decided the first thing he was going to do when they stopped was to lean over and dip his tongue into Vince's navel, licking around it and tracing the distracting line of dark hair that led down to the top of his low-slung flares, and a bush of curlier dark hair.

"The only thing is, I didn't bring any Boots", said Howard, searching around the car frenetically. "Oh wait – there's some in the glove box. Did you put them there?".

"Uh ... yeah", said Vince. "Always be prepared, that's my motto".

"Thanks Vince, that was really thoughtful", said Howard, rather touched. "I can see that you're learning to plan ahead more effectively now".

Vince didn't think it was a good idea to tell Howard he hadn't known anything about the Boots in the glove box and they obviously belonged to Rose and Percy. He had a feeling it would put Howard off completely, and he would start complaining that this was Yorkshire, not Norfolk.

And Vince wanted Howard to pull over as soon as possible, because he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything all night except the way Howard's black rolltop jumper clung to his smooth chest. The first thing he was going to do when they stopped was pull up Howard's jumper and knead his soft, generous tits, sucking on his sensitive nipples until he cried for mercy.

"I'll be able to turn in somewhere secluded I know of in a few miles", said Howard. "And Vince?".

"What?".

"When we get there, you can leave your hat on".

"Alright", said Vince. "And Howard?".

"Yeah?"

"You can take your belt off".

Because even if he wasn't always prepared, Vince did know how to plan ahead for some things.

********************************************************

"So what was the special thing we were going to do together to make up for you going to a jazz club last night?", Vince asked the next day.

"Oh ... well, nothing that special really. I just thought we'd bum each other senseless, and then I'd take you out for a curry or something", Howard said.

"Sex in the car one night, bumming and curry the next", said Vince. "You really know how to spoil a bloke, don't you?".

"Well, did you want to do that tonight or not?", Howard asked.

"'Course I do, Howard", Vince said. "It'll make the perfect end to the holiday".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howard's former jazz band is named after a track by Weather Report. I named his ex-bandmates after characters from The Who's rock operas "Tommy" and "Quadrophenia"; I was probably thinking of Tommy Nooka, as another character from Howard's past who didn't quite approve of Vince and his music choices.


	16. Pemberton or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter in which Howard shows Vince the home he has bought for them. I had to balance up what was practical for them, and within their budget, while still maintaining my original vision. Apparently fictional house hunting is very much like real life house hunting, and you have to be prepared to compromise.

The day Howard and Vince returned home after their holiday had been long and tiring, and the train packed with other grumpy people who didn't seem to want to go back to London either. When they arrived, it felt muggy after the cooler weather in Yorkshire, and the heat enervating in contrast. It made Howard glad he had chosen a cold climate for their honeymoon.

The flat was stuffy and uninviting after being shut up for two weeks, there was unpacking and washing to do, and a big stack of bills had come in the post during their absence. These were all addressed to Howard, this being one of the side-effects of rather highhandedly taking over the finances without asking. Howard didn't show Vince the bills, he never did, but they were making him feel stressed and worried.

That night in bed, Howard couldn't help thinking how different this was to Leeds. That's the trouble with all that holiday sex – you get withdrawal pains when it comes to an end, and you're back in your everyday life.

"If we were still in Leeds, we would have already had sex at least five times today by now", Howard said to Vince in a resentful tone. "And we only managed it once this morning, and we don't even feel like it now". He turned over and spooned Vince, making grouchy little noises.

"It's Howard the drama queen again", said Vince. " _Oh no I haven't had sex for fifteen hours, so I'm going to turn all Incredible Hulk and go on a rampage across London_ ". But he turned his face to give Howard a comforting kiss.

"I just miss it", said Howard, trying not to sound like a spoiled toddler.

"We're fucked out, that's all", replied Vince. "We'll be back to normal after a while. And we were doing it loads in that bedroom because we were making up for all the times we wanted to do it as teenagers, but didn't".

"Yeah?", said Howard with sudden interest. "You wanted to do it when we were teenagers?".

"'Course", said Vince. "Or at least, if you'd come over in the night and given me a kiss and a cuddle, I wouldn't have kicked you out of bed".

"And would we have kept that to ourselves when we got back to school?", Howard asked, a trifle shiftily.

"No way", laughed Vince. "I would have immediately blabbed all over school that my boyfriend was Howard Moon, the handsomest, sexiest, smartest bloke ever. I would have written it in graffiti letters ten feet tall, all over the school bogs: VINCE N. LOVES HOWARD M.".

"God, they would have bullied us horribly", shuddered Howard.

"They wouldn't have bullied us", Vince said persuasively. "We would have got teased, that's all. Everyone got teased when they had a boyfriend or girlfriend at school: or in some cases, a boyfriend _and_ a girlfriend".

Vince preened himself on being in the third category - although the situation hadn't lasted long, as it turned out his girlfriend and boyfriend really preferred each other to Vince.

" _You_ would have got teased, _I_ would have been bullied", said Howard gloomily. "Not sure it would have been worth it, just for a kiss and a cuddle".

"Well, if you'd given me a hand job instead, I would have been your slave for life", giggled Vince, turning around to face Howard.

"You _are_ my slave for life, you little titbox", Howard growled, getting on top of Vince like an attacking bear.

"Get stuffed, I'm not your bloody slave", said Vince, giving Howard a foxy little bite at the base of his throat.

"You said that about being my apprentice, but you were wrong", said Howard slyly. "I think you'll find I've declared you my personal slave for tax purposes".

"It's you that were _my_ slave", insisted Vince. "I never released you from my service, and you're still taking care of me – cooking for me, straightening my hair, baking me little cakes ...".

"I must cite the clause _What happens on Xooberon stays on Xooberon_ ", said Howard, holding Vince close in his arms and nuzzling him.

Thinking about those long Xooberon nights, so cold in the desert once the sun went down, got them excited as usual, and they were soon snogging passionately with their hands all over each other.

Normal transmission had resumed.

******************************************************

A couple of days later, Howard told Vince he would take him to see the flat that he had bought them some time ago. Vince had said he would be happy with whatever Howard chose, but he couldn't help feeling a little prickle of discomfort – if this was _Escape_ _to Hackney_ , he had definitely opted for the mystery house, which gave him a funny feeling inside.

They turned into the High Street, but instead of walking towards Boots and shops and restaurants, Howard led Vince the other way, into residential areas.

"We seem to be going further away from everything", Vince commented.

"I took Royle's advice", Howard said. "He told us that we might find our dream house at a bargain price by adding ten minutes to our commute. Well, at the moment, we're ten minutes walk from the Nabootique and The Velvet Onion, and the flat that I bought is twenty minutes walk from them. If you don't want to walk each time, we'll buy you a bike and we can cycle together. We'll make cycling trendy in Hackney".

"That sounds okay", said Vince. "I know how to ride a bike, your dad taught me".

"There's something else I should probably prepare you for", said Howard.

"Mm?".

"Do you remember how Royle told us he sold a couple a converted goat shed?".

"Are we going to live in someone's tool shed or something?", asked Vince cautiously.

"You're not that far wrong", said Howard. "We're going to be living in a factory".

"A factory?", said Vince blankly. "What kind of factory?".

"An old Victorian factory on the wharf that's been turned into flats", Howard replied. "It's called a loft apartment, and Royle says it's a good investment – he said loft apartments are going to get very big in Hackney".

"How does he know that?", Vince asked sceptically.

"Well ... he tells everyone that they're going to be big, so we all buy them, and then they become big", explained Howard. "It's a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy".

"Or a complete con job", said Vince, who hadn't taken to Royle, and was annoyed to hear Howard quoting his teachings as if he was some sort of guru. "You see, this is why Leroy keeps calling him a tosser".

"Leroy doesn't really think that", said Howard. "It's like the way we call each other _titbox_ and _freak_ – he calls Royle _tosser_ as a sign of affection. They're very fond of each other, really".

"Sounds like you're fond of him and all", said Vince jealously.

"I like Royle a lot", agreed Howard. "He's been a huge help with the whole process – I couldn't have done it without him. When this is over, we have to have him to dinner as a thank you".

"So we can have sex with him?", said Vince sullenly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Vince! Royle would never cheat on Sarah, he's a good bloke. His wife would come too of course, and probably the kids as well. And Leroy – it was all his idea in the first place".

"Was it Royle who told you about the factory flats?", asked Vince, deciding that if so, he was going to turn against them in a big way.

"No, it was my mate Dave who put me onto them", said Howard. "He lives in a different set of loft apartments further down the wharf, and he told me he heard the developers had run out of money and were selling the apartment cheaply, as it wasn't quite finished. I haggled them down a bit, and accepted a short settlement period in exchange for the lower price".

"Wait – since when do you have a mate called Dave?".

"Since April. I met him in The Knackered Mare and we had a drink together", said Howard.

"You have a mate called Dave you met in The Knackered Mare? He sounds well dodgy", complained Vince. He didn't know whether to be jealous this time, or just alarmed.

"He's a journalist, but he's all right", said Howard. "Some time we'll have he and his husband Mike over for dinner; they're going to be our neighbours".

"Is this more partner-swapping?", asked Vince faintly.

"Huh, in Dave's dreams", said Howard, with a little smirk.

Vince looked uneasy, so Howard took his hand and said:

"You've got to stop thinking everyone wants me, Vince, or I'll never have any friends. The truth is, hardly anyone wants me – it's pretty much just you, and two mental cases. You're the one that everyone wants, Vince".

Vince knew Howard was wrong. Viv had fancied Howard, taking him into a dark corner to giggle and hold hands with him. And that little rat-faced Lance had never stopped trying to get his paws on Howard. Even Howard's old jazzy mate Kev had seemed just a bit too interested in Howard's nude films. Fossil had obviously been all over Howard like a nun sandwich, although Fossil fancied literally everyone so that didn't really mean much.

Vince had often seen men checking out Howard's hot pumpkin arse, not to mention his lovely knockers and fit Jazzercised body. Vince had received enough looks from people in public who seemed puzzled how a ragamuffin from the streets like him had ever managed to get anyone as classy and intellectual-looking as Howard.

The truth was that Howard only noticed people fancying him when they _were_ mental cases – even he couldn't help twigging something was up once he'd been kidnapped, or solicited as a prostitute.

******************************************************

They reached a big green iron door set in a high brick wall, and Howard took a set of keys from the pocket of his cords, and unlocked it. From the outside, it had looked semi-industrial, so Vince was surprised when they walked through the gate.

There was a large parchment-coloured building with green trim, that was the flats, set in a private garden with a vaguely Mediterranean feel. There were wooden benches on green lawns under trees, winding gravel paths, and lots of lavender and rosemary bushes. If you squinted, and used your imagination, and maybe took a mild hallucinogen, you might almost think you were in Italy.

Vince started to say it was nice, but Howard kept going on about grounds fees, and that the trees would look much better in a few years, and how they were going to put in some paving later, and maybe a communal vegetable patch so they could grow their own food.

At the green front door that was theirs, Howard took out another key and unlocked it. He gave Vince a shy smile, before hoisting him into his arms, and carrying him over the threshold like a new bride. Vince didn't look at the apartment for a while because he was kissing Howard, feeling safe in his strong arms, but eventually Howard put him down so he could see.

Vince hadn't known what to expect, except that Howard had said it was an old factory, and had been going cheaply because the conversion wasn't finished. There was a confused muddle in his imagination of bare brick, rusty metal, exposed pipes, dirt, mess, ugliness. He told himself it didn't matter – it would all get sorted, and the important thing was that he and Howard would be together.

But the loft apartment was even more of a surprise than the garden. His immediate impression was of space and light – high beamed ceilings and big arched windows, as tall as those in a church, which ran across the entirety of the apartment from ceiling to floor. And instead of being raw and cavernous, as he had pictured, it had been organised into cosy little living spaces, the walls painted in bright jewel colours, and the floors either tiled, carpeted, or inlaid with parquetry, depending on the space's purpose.

"You said it wasn't finished", said Vince.

"It wasn't quite", Howard said. "The interior decorating hadn't been done, so I called in a Danish designer for that. I got to like the way Danish people do their homes when I was in Copenhagen, so I hired Christina, and she's been ... oh, she's a human Janet".

"You mean she's a beautiful blonde who looks like an angel?", asked Vince.

"Well yes she is, except that she's got blue eyes, not green", said Howard. "But what I meant was ... she's a miracle worker, it's like magic how quickly and easily it all gets done. She knows what I want better than I do myself".

"Does she cost five hundred euros, like Janet?".

Howard gave a shaky laugh.

"Um ... she's a lot more expensive than Janet", he admitted. Because several of the worrying bills had come from Christina.

"She's made everything look so warm and inviting", said Vince. "I thought it would all look cold and ugly, like a factory floor".

"Oh well, that's something Christina calls _hygge_ ... it means that it's both comfortable and comforting ... she says _hygge_ is going to get very trendy. And this building housed the offices for the factory – they didn't actually make anything here".

Vince walked out onto the balcony, which had views over the canal, and big pots of golden and bronze dahlias.

"We've got private access to the tow path by the canal", said Howard. "And we'll put a little table and chairs out here, so we can sit on the balcony when it's warm enough".

Vince didn't say anything, but took Howard's hand, and kept looking out over the canal – to Hoxton and Shoreditch, on the other side.

"Do you like it, Vince?", asked Howard anxiously. "If you don't, I can sell it, or I'll sack Christina ... it still needs furniture and pictures, but you can choose the pictures, and Christina says the 1960s are going to come back in a big way, so she thinks that style of furniture will suit us ... and you've got your own studio for painting and sewing, and ... don't you like it, Vince?".

"You remember when we used to watch that TV show you liked, Howard? The one about being up yourself and thinking you know everything?".

" _Pride and Prejudice_?".

"Yeah that one", agreed Vince. "And remember how Elizabeth went to Mr Darcy's house? ... Pemberton or something".

"Pemberley".

"When Elizabeth went to Pemberley, she just walked around in a daze, soaking her knickers over it and thinking she was about to go mental if she couldn't marry Mr. Darcy, because his house was genius, and she couldn't wait to move in with him. Well that's exactly how I feel, Howard".

They stood on the balcony, kissing in each other's arms, for a quite a while after that. Houseboats lined the canal below, and the dahlias glowed proudly in the August sunshine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life, Noel does actually ride a bicycle around a lot (or did in this era) because he doesn't have a car. And Hackney is well known for its many cyclists. 
> 
> Howard and Vince's loft apartment is loosely based on various real life ones on Benyon Wharf on Regents Canal, in both Dalston and neighbouring De Beauvoir Town. There's also a lot of imagination involved to make it nicer than most modern real estate developments. I don't know what Howard paid for the apartment (probably under 500 000 euros because he was pretty firm on that, although the decorating seems to have gone over budget), but it would be worth a lot now; well over a million pounds in our universe, as house prices have skyrocketed in Hackney since the mid-2000s. 
> 
> The Danish-style interior design of the apartment is based on The Alexandra Hotel in Copenhagen, where Noel and Richard stayed in an episode of "Travel Man". It had that charming, cosy, and hip vibe that I thought Howard and Vince might like. Noel seemed rather down in the episode – he was probably just cold and didn't care for the food, but I whimsically imagined it was because Copenhagen is the city Howard left for and broke Vince's heart! Incidentally, it was in this episode that Noel wears the stylish buttoned high-heeled ankle boots that I gave to Vince in the story. 
> 
> Apart from being one of the few flowers that will bloom in late summer in a container, dahlias symbolise love and commitment, and are traditional at weddings. 
> 
> Howard and Vince watched the BBC production of "Pride and Prejudice" on video in "Some Entirely Unremarkable Evening". It was apparently one of Howard's favourite shows.


	17. The Satin Banana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard takes Vince on a night out to fulfil a promise, and discovers that Vince has been keeping a few secrets of his own. It contains references to canon that fanfic often prefers to gloss over or explain away, so I decided to embrace it instead and see what happened. So er, a trigger warning for canon, if that's actually a thing.

The Friday after showing Vince their new apartment, Howard surprised Vince with tickets to see his favourite band, The Black Tubes, who were performing at a local club called The Satin Banana. I think maybe Howard had taken it to heart, Vince's joke about Howard spoiling him on holiday, and decided to do a bit of spoiling for real. Or perhaps there was slightly more to it – Howard was always so dark and complex and mysterious that it was hard to know what he was up to, exactly.

Howard waited to see what outrageous costume Vince would appear in this time, He was picturing gold sequins and orange feathers, maybe a bowl of fruit on his head like Carmen Miranda, or a sombrero with little plastic dolls dangling from the brim. Six inch perspex clogs that would allow him to tower over Howard might be his footwear of choice. Whatever it was, it would be eye-catching and make Vince the centre of attention.

But when Vince emerged from the bedroom, he was only wearing a long, loose pale blue jumper that came right down to his knees and made him look very small and fragile, and his favourite high-heeled ankle boots that buttoned up the side. His slim legs were bare, so that if you didn't look closely, you might have assumed he was wearing a woollen dress. He gave Howard a little look under his eyelashes, unexpectedly shy, asking for his approval.

Howard only said, "You took long enough to get ready. Come on, or the club will be closed before we even get there".

But there was something about the way he said it, and the way he gazed at Vince, that seemed to perfectly satisfy his fiance.

****************************************************

Vince might have been correct when he said that he was not, strictly speaking, beautiful. Even _Cheekbone_ , that great arbiter of taste, would never commit itself to anything more than "striking". But whenever he showed himself in a crowd, there was nonetheless something that Howard called The Vince Effect – not only would every eye be upon him, not only did lips part in surprise or desire, not only did heads turn in his direction like daisies following the sun, but it was almost inevitable that there would be a subtle movement towards him.

People wanted to get close to Vince, they wanted to be in his personal space, and (this was the hard part for Howard) they wanted to touch him. Hands would reach out to him, bodies pressed against his, he was constantly brushed past by people who took just a moment too long to move on. Howard accepted that Vince would always belong to others as well. But sharing Vince with their fans was one thing – having him caressed by a crowd of strangers on a night out was something else again.

When they first arrived at The Satin Banana, Howard had given Vince a kiss and told him to get as close to the stage as he wanted, while Howard bought them drinks. From the bar, Howard could see Vince in a big group near the stage, both men and women trying to fondle him; the Confusion he caused meant that even those who preferred the other sex were left not so much unsure of Vince's gender as uncaring what it might be. Howard noticed hands running down Vince's bare legs, and felt a flash of anger that they could take such liberties with him.

Howard joined Vince as soon as possible, handing him a flirtini, and rather ostentatiously marking him as his own. He coldly removed a man's arm which had snaked its way around Vince's waist and loomed over the transgressor, while giving him the thousand-yard glare of a man of action who has seen alien deserts and the perilous tundra. Howard didn't normally use his size to intimidate people, but he was happy to make an exception for this cockwomble.

There was no denying that the self-control Howard had to master in order not to kill Vince while bumming him had resulted in a flow-on effect of controlling his temper. And that an angry yet quietly controlled Howard was far more threatening than a furiously blustering one.

Howard put his own arm possessively around Vince, and said, "You're lucky you've got me to fight off the hordes of admirers".

"I can take care of meself", sniffed Vince.

Which Howard knew was true – anyone who had roughly grabbed at Vince or frightened him would have had a Cockney bitch coming at them quick smart. No one stomped on a hand with their boot as hard as Vince, his nails slashed like knives, and he could bite like a wild animal.

Vince would never bother making a fuss over gentle stroking though, over sly hands that felt him just a little more than necessary, or breasts that slid against him. For him, that was just part and parcel of being Vince Noir, rock and roll star.

"You need me to protect you", Howard insisted, kissing Vince deeply to let everyone know that Vince belonged to him, and they could all back off.

Vince kissed back with enthusiasm. He loved his sweet squishy teddy bear Howard, big and harmless as a haystack, but cool sexy menacing Howard was such a turn on. He made Vince feel safe and cherished, yet at the same time there was a frisson of excitement knowing that Howard had a dangerous edge to him. He was Vince's personal bodyguard, his attack dog, his security goon ... Vince wanted everyone to know that he belonged to Howard, and Howard only.

After they finished their drinks Howard got rid of their glasses, then turned to Vince and asked, "Would you like to dance?".

"With _you_?", asked Vince, too gobsmacked to realise how rude a reply that is to an invitation.

"I don't see anyone else asking you", said Howard.

"Can you ... do you even _know_ how to dance, Howard?".

"Certainly I can dance, sir", came the quick response. "I am the finest dancer there ever was ... my strong yet willowy legs carry me across the floor with grace and style ... you can have no better dance partner than I. Howard T.J. Moon, at your service".

Howard gave a deep bow and offered Vince his hand, as if they were at a formal ball with a seven-piece orchestra, not at a club listening to a gothic rock band.

Vince took Howard's hand and allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor. He was still very sceptical, and quite prepared to have his feet trodden on and his boots ruined in consequence. But Howard put his arms around Vince and began slow dancing with him to one of The Black Tubes' more shoegazing tunes in a perfectly reasonable fashion.

Howard wasn't actually the finest dancer that ever was, but he did have a certain amount of grace and style, and Vince was convinced there was no better partner out there for him. Howard at least knew how to hold Vince close, and made him feel safe and cherished. Coupled with not treading on Vince's feet, that meant Howard was doing very well.

"You're a really good dancer, Howard", Vince said to him in wonder.

"Why the tone of surprise?", asked Howard, nuzzling Vince's neck so that his moustache tickled him gently.

"I just didn't expect it", said Vince. "It didn't seem like you".

"Well you've got to remember I'm a musician, Vince", replied Howard. "I have rhythm, I can feel the soul of the music right through my feet".

"That's true", said Vince, pulling Howard even closer towards him.

"And I do Jazzercise", went on Howard. "I have years of practice moving my body to music, stretching in time to its beat".

"I never thought about that", said Vince, his hands behind Howard's neck so they could feel his soft messy brown curls.

"And I danced professionally", concluded Howard. "In the moonlight, so I got paid overtime".

"You'll have to do that for me some time", whispered Vince, as he gently leaned in and placed his lips against Howard's.

The two of them kissed as their bodies moved to the music. Vince slid his hands down, and began feeling up Howard's hot pumpkin arse. Howard kept his hands strictly above Vince's waist, because a) a gentleman always treats his dance partner with the utmost respect and b) he didn't want to get a massive throbber on the dance floor.

The next one was a fast post-punk garage rock song, but they kept slow dancing anyway.

***********************************************************

After the concert, Howard and Vince began walking home together, as they discussed the performance by The Black Tubes, and compared it to their own gigs.

"Didn't The Black Tubes have a different lead singer before?", asked Howard. "What happened to that guy, anyway?".

"I had him killed", said Vince blithely.

"Oh ha ha very funny", said Howard. "That was quite a dark joke, for you. I prefer the sunnier, more whimsical ones, like the frog stealing your trainers".

"It wasn't a joke", said Vince seriously. "I asked Bollo and Naboo to get rid of him for me, and they said they'd take care of it. And a frog _did_ steal my trainers; that wasn't a joke either".

"Why did you have him killed?", asked Howard, still waiting for the punchline.

" _I_ wanted to be the frontman for The Black Tubes", explained Vince. "They let me have a shot at it, but I couldn't really fit into the required trousers ... they have this stupid thin leg policy and mine are a bit muscular. Anyway ... let's just say it didn't work out".

"You had someone killed so you could take his place?", asked Howard in disbelief. "And it was all for nothing?".

"Yeah ... put it like this, Howard – I tend to get my own way, somehow or other".

"Vince, having someone killed isn't _somehow or other_ ; it's you arranging for them to be murdered", pointed out Howard.

"However it happened, and I'm a bit vague on the details, the main point is that I got what I wanted. Well I got to at least have a go at it, anyway".

"Er ... have you done this sort of thing before, Vince?", asked Howard worriedly.

"Yeah. You remember Mrs Gideon? I had her shanghaied", Vince replied.

"Do you even know what that means, Vince?", Howard demanded.

"It means I had her transferred to Shanghai Zoo", said Vince. "She's head of the panda breeding program there now".

"Wait – how did you even do that?", Howard asked in confusion. "You can't just transfer someone from one zoo to another on the other side of the world".

"Dunno how it was done", said Vince. "I just told Fossil to sort it, and he said to leave it up to him. Fossil will do anything for a blowjob".

"Why did you get rid of Mrs Gideon? I thought you liked her, that you were friends with her", asked a bewildered Howard.

"No, _she_ liked _me_ ", Vince corrected him. "I hated her because she wanted you, and she was going to take you away from me".

"Are you insane, Vince? Mrs Gideon didn't want me – she couldn't even remember my name! I meant nothing to her!".

"No you're wrong there, Howard", Vince argued. "At first she didn't care about you, but once she found out you were a writer she started to really fancy you. You'd always been mental over her, and I knew you'd get together unless I did something drastic".

"I think she probably went off me again after I gave her two black eyes", Howard said drily.

"That just gave you edge, didn't it?", said Vince. "Made you dangerous. Like a pirate. Women love that. They say they like nice guys, but they actually want a big brute of a man".

"I don't actually think women _do_ want two black eyes, Vince", said Howard, "because she got off with your panda instead".

"She was just playing hard to get", Vince said . "Trying to make you jealous. That was a rebound panda. Another day or two, and Gideon would have been all over you like a flannel".

"Vince, I was only attracted to Mrs Gideon because she was cold and unattainable! If she ever _had_ shown any interest in me, I would have run a mile from her", Howard said in distress.

"Oh, I didn't realise that", said Vince. "Still, probably best she went away, wasn't it? I mean, she could have a made a lot of trouble for you otherwise. Seeing as how you went a bit mental and beat her up".

Howard's head whirled vertiginously. Vince's stories were outrageous, they couldn't be true – except that he couldn't deny the lead singer of The Black Tubes _had_ been replaced, and Mrs Gideon _had_ disappeared rather abruptly. He'd been only too glad not to see her again, and certainly glad not to have charges pressed against him, lose his job, or ask any questions. He sincerely hoped that Mrs Gideon enjoyed working at Shanghai Zoo: at least he knew she liked pandas.

This was just like when Vince had casually informed him that he'd been telling everyone they were a couple for ten years or more. Suddenly Howard discovered that his entire reality had been upside down the whole time – no wonder he felt dizzy.

It had been part of Howard's belief system from the very beginning that he wasn't good enough for Vince, and never would be. Vince was not only beautiful, but pure and innocent, sweet and sunny, giving and generous. Howard was essentially a bad person with a terrible temper who had got Vince addicted to him, treated him horribly, messed him around, and forced Vince to submit to his perverted kinky desires – he had assumed that Vince complied with, and even encouraged, them because he was an unselfish person who would do anything to make Howard happy.

But if Vince had people killed and shanghaied, then he wasn't really all that pure and innocent. And if he would do anything to get his own way, it didn't sound as if he would really agree to do something he didn't want. Which meant that ... maybe Vince _wasn't_ too good for Howard after all. Maybe they were both kinky perverts.

A thought suddenly struck Howard, and it actually felt as if something had hit his head and crashed into his brain.

"Vince, when you said you always get your own way ... well, you said you wanted to be with me, for years and years before it happened. And then we got together because of an interview you gave in _Cheekbone_ ... Vince, did you engineer this whole situation so that we would be forced into a relationship?".

Vince gave Howard a careless, innocent smile.

"Oh I don't think I'm clever enough to engineer anything, Howard ... I think it's just that I'm a lucky person, and however it happens, I tend to get my own way. It might take ten years or more, but eventually I _will_ get what I want".

Despite the innocent smile, Vince sounded very determined, and had a look of deep satisfaction on his face. Now Howard didn't know what to think; didn't know which part to trust.

Howard had a distant memory of his mother watching an old romantic melodrama on television, while he lay on the floor of the living room with his _Winnie-the-Pooh_ colouring book. He hadn't paid much attention to the action on screen, but at one point the rather feeble heroine had swooned into the arms of her wicked seducer, crying, "Oh ... you're so strong ... so _ruthless_ ", offering him her lips, and presumably everything else as well.

His mother had said to herself, "Oh my goodness yes, we ladies do love the bad boys", before realising that Howard was listening and hastily adding, "but of course we marry nice ones like you and your father, Howie darling".

Unbidden, Howard had a sudden image in his mind of him swooning into Vince's arms, feebly crying that Vince was so strong, so ruthless; offering Vince his lips, not to mention anything else Vince felt like helping himself to. It gave him a feeling of soft vulnerability deep in his solar plexus that was by no means unpleasant.

Now Howard wondered if it wasn't only ladies who loved bad boys. Because Howard had fallen in love with many Vinces, but falling in love with Ruthless Bastard Vince was an experience to remember.

********************************************************

They were walking past The King Edward II, the posh pub in Dalston, when Howard suddenly told Vince that he knew a shortcut home, through a narrow lane next to the pub that led to their street, and came out just a few hundred yards from their flat. Vince protested that he was sure Howard was wrong, and that it wasn't actually a lane, but Howard seemed tense and excited, and insisted that they go down the lane, and what would be the harm in trying it, even if he _was_ wrong?

"Might be a bit of fun", he suggested, although Vince couldn't see any fun in going down a dark lane, discovering it wasn't really a lane after all, and having to go all the way back again.

Howard held Vince's hand tightly, and was almost dragging him along as they walked down the path that turned along the back of the pub, before they were forced to stop.

"You see Howard, I was right", said Vince. "It's just a blind alley – it ends up in a little courtyard thingy behind the pub. You can't get through anywhere".

Howard's response was to push Vince up against the wall of the alley, and trap him there using his own body, pressing it against Vince's. He gave a little smile that wasn't quite reassuring.

"Is this alley all right with you?", he asked softly. "It's nice and private, and not too dirty or touristy".

"Yeah it's genius, Howard", whispered Vince, licking his lips. "Good choice".

Vince gave a little shiver of anticipation, because he was sure that Howard was going to fulfil his promise and kiss him roughly. He imagined Howard's mouth raking his, his hands twisted in his hair and pulling it; he imagined being shoved against the wall and bitten hard, with Howard's strong hands holding him in place.

But instead Howard leaned in, and pressed his lips gently upon Vince's, giving him the sweetest, tenderest kiss imaginable. And Vince, that ruthless bastard and wicked seducer, swooned into Howard's arms as if he were a delicate flower, offering up his lips and everything else.

Without breaking the kiss, Howard began running his hands up Vince's legs, under his long pale blue jumper, between the thighs ... and then he stopped.

"You're not wearing anything under your jumper", Howard said accusingly to Vince. "You haven't even put pants on, you little exhibitionist".

"Forgot", said Vince with an innocent, untrustworthy smile.

Howard's large hands went on exploring everything that was under Vince's jumper.

"People were all over you at the club", Howard went on in a quiet, warning voice. "Anyone could have felt you up, could have done this". Howard's hands were sliding rhythmically up and down Vince, feeling the soul of his music right down through his feet.

"I had you to protect me", said Vince, trying to be cheeky, but instead sounding dopily adoring.

"What am I going to do with you, Vince?", asked Howard in mock despair, before going on more suggestively. "What would you _like_ me to do with you?".

"I want you to punish me", said Vince in an excited whisper. "I want you to call me a filthy tart, I want you to hurt me, I want you to shag my fucking brains out".

"Well that's very ... interesting", said Howard, controlling his breathing so he could sound calm. "But you're forgetting one thing, sweetheart".

"What's that?", asked Vince, his eyes huge in the moonlight.

"I'm the one in charge tonight", said Howard, running one finger down Vince's jawline, "so what _you_ want doesn't concern me greatly. It's all about what _I_ want".

Vince gave a frustrated little whine.

"What do you want to do with me then, Howard?".

"What I've been thinking about ever since I first saw you wearing that outfit", said Howard. He turned Vince around so he faced the wall, lifting up his pale blue jumper as if it was a dress. Howard put his big hands around Vince's slim hips and kissed the back of his neck while leaving Vince exposed.

"Do you have any Boots?", asked Vince.

Howard didn't answer, because what a stupid question. If someone takes four and a half months to find the perfect alley, and thoroughly investigates it to make sure nobody ever comes down it at this particular time of night, then they don't forget to bring Boots.

Howard took the Boots out of the front pockets of his brown cords before unzipping his trousers and tugging them down. He began smearing Boots on his fingers ...

*******************************************************

Now I think we should quietly tiptoe out of the alley and give them some privacy, because Vince might be a little exhibitionist, but Howard wouldn't like it, and you don't want to piss Howard off when he's going all sexual Tyrannosaurus.

And don't worry about Vince not getting what he asked for. Vince always gets his own way, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried very hard to make the nightclub's name like The Velvet Onion – a fabric plus a fruit/vegetable, and a band reference. The band reference was the hard part, and this was the best I could manage: the club's name is an anagram of BATHE IN SANTANA (it doesn't quite make sense). It's more obviously a pun on "the second banana" to mean that it is in an inferior role to The Velvet Onion, and in reference to Julian and Noel being a comedy double act: not that you could ever designate one of them as the second banana.


	18. What Happens on Ibiza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Vince have their joint stag do, and Howard uncovers some family history.

The week before they were due to be married, Vince told Howard that Bollo, Naboo, and the guys from the Shaman Council were taking him on a stag do that evening.

"And what about me?", demanded Howard. "I'm a stag too – a great powerful stag of the forest with mighty antlers. Why am I being left out?".

"We thought you'd have something else on, ballbag", said Naboo. "You know, maybe your book club was giving you a quiche and coffee night instead, yeah?".

"Is this about me being the girl again?", said Howard crossly. "Because I am not only taller and heavier than Vince, but I also have a bloody moustache! And I don't drink coffee at night – it would keep me up to all hours".

"No it's not about you being a girl, you ballbag, it's about you being a two-pot screamer", said Naboo. "You'd be a complete wet blanket at a stag do, Howard".

"I'll have you know I drank at least four pots on my birthday within just twelve hours, and far from being wet, I gave a very moving speech and ended up singing Cole Porter songs while doing French cabaret dances", Howard shot back.

Naboo gave Vince a look of blank horror at Howard's idea of a wild drunken night out.

"Oh come on Naboo, let Howard come", Vince pleaded. "It's his wedding too, and we're both stags. I'll take care of him".

Naboo muttered imprecations, and Bollo said he had a bad feeling about it.

When the guys from the Shaman Council arrived at Vince and Howard's flat, they were likewise less than thrilled at the news Howard was coming too.

"Oh not this titplum as well", moaned Saboo. "It's bad enough we have to put up with the other fuckstick, the one who looks like a simpleton in guyliner".

"You can't bring your fiance on a stag do, it's an outrage", protested Tony Harrison. "When I had my stag do, I was living large in Brighton, while the future Mrs Harrison was at her sister's in Bournemouth with a hired stripper".

"Silence all", said Dennis sternly, striding into the centre of the room to assert his authority. "I decree that since we can't have a stag do without the shiny one, and since the shiny one demands the presence of the shaggy one, we have no choice but to take the shaggy one as well. I have spoken, so let it be done, with no more words about it".

Dennis was used to making quick judgements with very little thought and being obeyed, and he hadn't put much thought into this one either. In our universe, he might have gone into local politics.

"Great, so where are we going?", asked Howard. "Having a few drinks at The Knackered Mare or something?".

"No you plumbag", snapped Saboo. "I know you probably think a few drinks at The Knackered Mare is a really exciting night out, but we're going to a resort in Ibiza to get completely shitfaced".

"We'll be legless!", chortled Tony Harrison.

"You're always legless, you gigantic ballsack", retorted Saboo, flouncing his velour coat around to make it clear he wasn't happy about this, or anything else either.

"Ibiza?", said Howard, growing pale. "But that's Spain".

Saboo clapped loudly and ironically.

"Oh give the man a geography medal", said Saboo. "He knows vaguely where Ibiza is".

"That's across the sea", Howard went on, going even more pale.

"At this point, I can't even find any amusement in his idiocy", Saboo proclaimed to nobody in particular, unless it was a sort of invisible audience that he carried around with him so he could make sarcastic comments to it.

"It's alright ballbag", said Naboo. "We're going by flying carpet".

"That sounds brilliant", said Vince hastily. "Doesn't it Howard? And don't worry, we'll be there almost instantly. Because it's like, magic and everything".

"It's a magic carpet, you plumdick", sighed Saboo wearily, "not a teleportation device. It's very fast _for a carpet_ , but not instant".

****************************************************

Howard had had a desperate hope that since the chokes had been removed, his fear of heights and flying might have gone too, or at least been brought under control. But it seemed as if fear of flying was on a completely separate Axis of Anxiety, and being on a magic carpet was an utterly terrifying experience for him.

He'd been okay for the first part as they left London, as long as Vince held his hand and he kept his eyes closed. But as soon as they reached the coast and began flying over the Channel, he started gibbering wildly in fear. Some people are like that – they're not too bad on a plane, until it goes over water, and then they freak out big time.

Having someone of Howard's size freak out on a carpet travelling through the air wasn't something the shamans welcomed. Howard kept lying on the carpet to look over the side, pointing down at the water below, and screaming (with very loud manly screams).

At one point he got up and actually ran around screaming (loud manly screams). This was alarming for everyone, as you're not meant to run around on a flying carpet – they're only designed for sitting quietly, or at most, having one experienced solo flyer of average height and build standing upright in a very firm, controlled manner. Large men running around on them in a panic isn't recommended, and will void your warranty.

"This is an outrage!", said Tony Harrison. "He's a danger to us all".

"Do something about this!", insisted Saboo. "Or we're all headed for the crunch".

"Don't worry", said Vince. "He'll be okay once we're over land again".

Naboo mumbled, "Give him a quarter, that will calm him down and shut him up", and then Dennis took control and forced something into Howard's mouth, like a vet worming a dog.

Now there are many problems with drugs (for further information, I refer you to all those films you watched in Health class), but one of the problems is that identical doses of the same substance may have quite different, or even opposing, effects on different people.

One quarter of whatever it was might have made most people calm and quiet, but although it did make Howard calmer and stopped him from being terrified, he didn't shut up. Instead he became both talkative and very affectionate.

"I love you, little man", Howard said, putting his arms around Vince and gazing at him adoringly.

"Uh yeah, me too", said Vince. "But cool it in front of the shamans, okay?".

"You have the most beautiful eyes", Howard went on. "Your eyes are like pools of hyacinths. I wrote about them in a poem once".

"Oh, that poem was about me, then", said Vince, who had always wondered who the beautiful person in the poem was that Howard was in love with. He'd also wondered why hyacinths were growing in a pond in Howard's poem, as it showed a shocking lack of awareness of floral cultivation.

"And when you cry, they look like forget-me-nots washed by the rain", Howard blethered, as serene as if he'd joined the Yeti cult.

"I don't cry!", said Vince. "I _don't_ – I don't cry!", he said loudly to the company at large.

"You did once", said Howard dreamily. "You cried and cried, and your eyes looked like forget-me-nots in the rain. And my heart almost burst with love, and I could barely sleep that night for it".

Howard had told Vince he'd been in love with him for years, but now Vince realised it must have been a very long time – almost as long as Vince being in love with Howard. If Vince had known, he would have made an unmistakable move on Howard and just kept trying, so he now felt funny inside knowing what they'd missed out on. He angrily brushed tears out of his eyes.

The shamans looked appalled by this display. At least they could get a laugh out of Vince going soppy over Howard, but Howard going soppy over Vince just made them feel queasy.

"I think I'm going to be sick", announced Saboo to his invisible audience.

Having humiliated Vince on his stag do and broken his heart for the thousand-and-first time, Howard then turned his unwanted attention to others.

"Tony Harrison, you're so pink", said Howard admiringly. "You're like a big smooth pink ball of ... a big smooth pink ball of ball". He rubbed the top of Tony Harrison, and played with his tentacles.

"It's an outrage!", complained Tony Harrison. "This is tantamount to sexual harassment, my tentacles are erogenous zones. He's harassing' the Harrison".

"And Saboo ... you're so angry, such an angry man", said Howard sympathetically. "But I always get the feeling that inside is a very sad, lonely little person who just needs a great big hug".

Howard hugged Saboo extravagantly, his long arms right around him, squeezing warmly. Howard was a good hugger: he would have been popular at an encounter group in the 1960s.

"Stop this arseclown or I'm going to throw him off the carpet, and he'll be for the crunch", said Saboo in a voice which was the calm centre in the storm of his rage.

"Kirk, I believe you're the most petrifying thing in the universe", said Howard solemnly, carefully keeping his distance.

"Yes I am", said Kirk with a bland, sinister smile.

"Give him another quarter", said Naboo, who was next in line and had an uneasy feeling he was going to get hugged as well.

Dennis did the no-nonsense vet routine again, and Howard got another dose. This time it had the desired effect, and Howard immediately fell asleep with his head on Vince's lap. Vince stroked his fine mocha-brown hair, and couldn't help feeling relieved.

The amount of times Howard has given me a lecture about being more discreet, Vince thought indignantly, and yet look what happens when _he_ opens his mouth and lets loose.

"Well, I'm glad I can't read Howard's mind after all, yeah?", said Naboo with a shudder.

"Wait ... you mean you can read other people's minds?", asked Vince in surprise.

"Yeah 'course", said Naboo. "All shamans can read minds ... except Howard's".

The other shamans nodded in agreement.

"It's probably because he's a wizard", suggested Vince. "He knows practically everything, and he can fill out any paperwork, and he got rich just doing nothing really, and he makes his own herbal remedies from the fields and hedgerows. And he owns Hogwarts".

"Yeah that would explain it", agreed Naboo. "We can't read wizards' minds – it just gives us the most terrible headache if we try".

 *****************************************************

When they arrived at the resort in Ibiza, Howard was still asleep, so they carefully placed him in a double bed in one of the rooms they had booked. Twenty minutes later, they had to put Dennis in the bed too, as Dennis had taken the other half of whatever it was they gave Howard to prove that drugs had virtually no effect on him at all. He was fast asleep as well.

Howard woke the next morning to find that he was in a double bed with someone. Howard was used to sleeping with Vince curled up in his arms, and Dennis was used to sleeping snuggled up with his wife, so they woke holding each other. Dennis had sleepily given Howard a little kiss on the cheek, which is how he greeted his wife each morning.

They both suddenly realised they weren't with their respective partners after all, but were sharing a bed. Howard and Dennis gave each other one horrified look, and then they both spoke, the same thought apparently occurring to them at the same time.

"What happens on Ibiza, _stays_ on Ibiza!", they said in unison.

Dennis had rethought a few basic principles, but if he'd had to go to bed with one of them, he would have much preferred it was the shiny one, not the shaggy one. It was just typical of his bloody luck, he thought gloomily.

******************************************************

"So what did you do last night?", Vince asked Howard, when they met at breakfast in the resort's dining room. Vince looked completely unaffected by a night of shamanic debauchery, with his make-up perfect, clothes clean and unwrinkled, and not a hair out of place.

"Absolutely nothing", said Howard at once. "Nothing happened, and I was completely alone the whole time, by myself, with nobody else there, and I did nothing at all". Howard looked rumpled, pale, ill, and bleary-eyed after a night spent peacefully sleeping in bed.

"Sounds like a blast", said Vince, eating a big stack of banana pancakes covered in caramel sauce and cream. Drinking the night before always made him hungry in the morning.

"So what did you do?", asked Howard, eating a thin slice of dry toast with his cup of tea. His head ached.

"I hung out by the swimming pool with Kirk, doing shots all night", said Vince. "Ugh, that kid is so depraved".

"Why, what did he do?", asked Howard.

"Let's just say they won't be using that swimming pool ever again", said Vince darkly. "He's completely put me off ever having any children at all, Howard".

"Beatrice won't be like Kirk", Howard reassured him.

"How do you know?", demanded Vince.

"She'll be human for a start", said Howard. "And she won't be the most sexually depraved being in the entire universe. There couldn't be two of them".

"Have you seen Dennis this morning?", asked Vince. "It's his flying carpet, and we can't miss getting on it to go home".

"No I most certainly haven't seen Dennis", said Howard uncomfortably. "Like I said, I was completely alone all night, woke up alone, and Dennis wasn't there either".

At that moment, Dennis strode into the dining room, looking self-important if a little the worse for wear.

"Good morning Dennis", said Howard quickly. "It's nice to see you for the first time today".

"Yes, yes ... he sleeps best who sleeps alone", said Dennis shiftily. "Time to get on the flying carpet, you two – if we're not gone by checkout time we have to pay for another night".

"Are you going to be okay getting home on the flying carpet, Howard?", Vince asked in concern.

"I think I'm too hungover to really worry about it that much", Howard replied.

In some ways, his stag night reminded Howard of being trapped on the desert isle with Vince. He'd spent the night on an island in a hot climate, got off his face, gone to sleep, and woken up confused, with him looking like a disaster zone, and Vince looking perfect as usual. He was just glad there weren't any coconuts, although he wasn't sure if Dennis was really any improvement on Milky Joe.

******************************************************

On the carpet ride home, Vince got Naboo to tell Howard the important information he had shared the previous evening.

"Yer a wizard, Howard", said Naboo.

"I – I'm a what?", asked Howard faintly.

"A wizard!", said Naboo more loudly, in the belief Howard hadn't heard him properly.

"I think you've made a mistake", Howard said. "I mean, I ... can't be a ... wizard".

"Oh well whatever you say, ballbag", Naboo replied. "Obviously you know far more about it than me, a trained shaman who has practiced for centuries".

"Not but really", protested Howard. "It's just not possible".

"I told him that you own Hogwarts", said Vince, "and that you know everything, and can play every instrument, and can do all sorts of things, like tax returns and insurance, and you can make herbal remedies from things you find in the fields and hedgerows, and you made money grow out of nothing, and you knew exactly what size ring to buy me when we got engaged".

"I don't own Hogwarts", said Howard irritably. "It's just a ruined castle in the Highlands of Scotland on a loch with a giant squid".

Vince gave a triumphant look which clearly said, "Well, then!".

"And the other things are completely normal", went on Howard. "Almost everyone knows about taxation and compound interest, and it's not unusual to read books and play music and make your own herbal remedies. And I knew what size ring to buy because I paid attention when I went jewellery shopping with you".

"Yes, but who else can do _all_ those things?", said Vince. "And honestly Naboo, he's like a Jedi Master in the bedroom – he never loses concentration. The ceiling could collapse and Howard would just keep at it like nothing had happened. Once a next door neighbour watched us going for it against a tree, and Howard waited until we'd finished before he said hello to her".

"And the fact remains that I can't read your mind", said Naboo, before Vince could go on any more about what Howard was like in the bedroom.

"You normally read minds?", asked Howard.

"All shamans read minds", said Naboo. "But we can't read yours. Only a wizard would have the power to block a shaman like that".

Howard didn't know what to think.

******************************************************

That night Howard rang his mother, and after the usual pleasantries and enquiries about the wedding plans, diffidently asked her if she'd heard anything about wizards in the family.

"Oh well, that's the family legend, Howie darling", laughed Rose. "Supposedly, the laird of Comyn Castle is always a wizard".

"What, you only become a wizard when you inherit the castle?".

"I know, the whole idea is just too silly for words, isn't it?", said Rose in amusement. "Nobody takes it at all seriously, of course".

"And what does the legend actually say about being a wizard? I mean, how do you supposedly know you're one?".

"I can't remember that well, probably much like all these old legends. That he will have power over plants and animals, and find a great treasure ... oh yes, and that he will meet his true love within a year of becoming laird. There might be more, I don't know".

"So ... Uncle Alistair wasn't a wizard, then?", Howard asked.

"Poor Alistair, he only had the castle for such a short time", Rose said, suddenly sounding very sad. "It was a terrible time for the family, Howie, if you remember. Grandfather died when you were nine, leaving Daddy the castle, and Daddy died himself the following year. It was quite unexpected, and then poor Al was killed in a car accident just six months later".

"That must have been hard for you, Mum", said Howard, seeing it now from an adult perspective.

"It was, Howie darling. I was ill for a long time, losing both of them so close together, and the doctors said you should be sent away to boarding school so I could make a proper recovery. I felt awful sending my precious Howie away when you were so young, darling, but then the first letter I got from you, you said you'd made a special friend, and that helped me get better".

"Yes ... it's funny that I must have inherited the castle when I was almost eleven, and then a few months later I met Vince", Howard said thoughtfully.

"Goodness you sound quite superstitious Howie, you sentimental old thing", said Rose. "I remember you brought Vincie darling for the Christmas holidays, and of course we just loved him, the poor neglected little child. I asked if you wanted to come home and go to school in Leeds, but you wouldn't hear of it, and we thought it must because you were so attached to Vince".

"So Grandad didn't show any signs of being a wizard?", Howard asked.

"No ... of course he'd already married Mummy and was a widower by then. And he only had the castle for a year. He did win five hundred euros in the football pools, though".

"Not exactly a great treasure", commented Howard.

"No, but five hundred euros was a tidy sum in those days, and he was famous for never winning anything, and he didn't actually buy a coupon, so it was considered a minor miracle at the time".

"And what about your grandfather? He must have been laird a good while".

"Oh yes, years and years; since he was a boy. I never knew him very well, we moved to England when I was just a little girl, and we only visited a few times."

"Did any of the legend apply to him?".

"Now I don't know about that. He was a very clever man, all self-taught. If he ever found a treasure he didn't splash it about, because he was careful with money. The villagers called him The Closed Mouth, because he didn't say much, and some called him The Crooked Eye, because he had a funny habit of sort of looking at people sideways, as if he didn't want them to know he'd seen them".

Perhaps his great-grandfather had looked a bit shifty, Howard thought to himself.

"And did he find his true love?".

"He married Granny very young, they were childhood sweethearts, and after she died he never remarried, so I expect he did", Rose said.

"Any signs of having power over animals and plants?", Howard asked, more as if he was just checking off a list than really interested.

"Not really", said Rose. "He had an enormous amount of dogs, but a lot of people in the country have heaps of dogs, for protection. I do remember him having a lovely garden, but of course there's nothing very unusual about that".

"I suppose not", said Howard.

He still didn't know what to think. It seemed as if in his family, being a wizard was barely any different from being a normal person who's happily married, has pets and a garden, and might have an occasional win on the football pools. It was the most low-key wizardry he had ever heard of, and barely seemed worth getting a legend up for.

Then again, if it had attracted his true love to him in just a few months, that made it all worthwhile, didn't it?

"Mum, who gets the castle after me?", asked Howard.

"It would go to your eldest son, if you have one", said Rose. "And if you don't, then I think there's a third cousin in Lanarkshire or somewhere like that who would inherit it, or one of his sons".

"I can't leave it to a daughter?", Howard asked worriedly.

"No Howie darling, otherwise Daddy would have left the castle to me, his first child. You and Alistair inherited it because you were the eldest boys in line".

After Howard got off the phone he realised he needed a son and heir, and Beatrice would have to have a brother – he was glad really, he didn't want her to be an only child. Howard didn't know what Vince was going to say about this. Vince didn't want any children at all after spending a night with Kirk, and now Howard had to tell him that they were going to have at least two. He might wait until after the wedding to share this news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the backstory to the poem Howard wrote about Vince, and when Vince cried so much that Howard barely slept for thinking of it, see "Last Night at the Zooniverse".
> 
> Naboo telling Howard he's a wizard is obviously directly taken from J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone", where Hagrid gives Harry the same surprising news. Hagrid didn't call Harry a ballbag, though.
> 
> I presume that Rose's father unexpectedly died within a year of inheriting the castle because his true love (Rose's mother) was already dead, so in order to "meet" her, he had to go to Heaven. Possibly that's what happened to Alistair as well – the person who was his true love had died young. If so, how lucky that tough little Vince survived his difficult early childhood, or poor Rose would have been burying her only child as well as her father and brother. Instead, Vince helped make her well again after what sounds like severe depression, so he really is a bit magic.


	19. Romana and Julius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know nothing of the crunch. Oh sure, you've read books about the crunch. Maybe taken a little day trip around the crunch. But now we come to the part of the story where Vince and Howard come to the crunch. And it's not a nice crunch. If you had any foolish notions of the crunch being like crunchy cornflakes or crunchy autumn leaves, you are about to be disabused of any such ill-conceived ideas. So don't say I didn't warn you.

The night before Howard and Vince were due to be married, Rick came to the flat by himself to do some last-minute interviews and run through the next's day's schedule. The wedding itself would be the climax of the documentary, and Rick was coming over at six in the morning to begin filming.

"But we're not getting married until ten-thirty!", Howard protested.

"Yes dear boy, but the lovely Vince will need to be in hair and make-up by six-fifteen", said Rick.

"Is that true, Vince?", said Howard in consternation.

"'Course Howard, you want me looking beautiful for the wedding, don't you?", replied Vince.

"You already look beautiful", Howard said mutinously.

"Yes dear boy, but the sweet Vince has to look beautiful on camera", explained Rick. "Cameras can be cruel – they add ten pounds, and show up every flaw".

"Vince would look better with an extra ten pounds, and he doesn't have any flaws", sulked Howard, but Vince and Rick just exchanged amused looks at the level of Howard's ignorance.

"So guys, any wedding jitters or cold feet?", asked Rick as documentary interviewer.

"None at all", said Howard with unusual tranquility. "Janet has everything under control. We'll have a wonderful time celebrating our love with friends and family, and then we leave for our honeymoon the next day".

"Well, I can't help feeling a bit worried", said Vince with unusual pessimism. "I've got this funny feeling that something is going to go wrong".

"Now Vince, little things go wrong at weddings all the time", counselled Howard. "They actually help people feel more at ease, and create precious memories we'll laugh about in years to come".

"Did you get that out of a wedding magazine or something?", demanded Vince.

Howard flushed.

"As a matter of fact, Janet did give me some to read. You know I feel better if I get tips from a professional", he said. "And Dave said that when he and Mike got married, some old uncle got incredibly drunk and sang music hall songs before falling asleep with his face in the cake. Dave said it was a right laugh, and they just ate the bits of cake that weren't uncled".

"Maybe we got our scripts muddled again", sighed Vince.

He reflected that Howard had been strangely calm all week, ever since he had been forced to take half of whatever it was on their stag do. For some reason, it was putting Vince's nerves slightly on edge.

After some more questions, Rick suggested they move into the bedroom to do some filming – he had never given up on his idea of them going all John and Yoko in bed while he captured it on film. He kept saying it would give the documentary that quirky feel that so far it had been somewhat lacking.

Howard lay serenely on the bed, holding Vince's hand, and radiating what Janet would have identified as universal peace and love. Vince felt rather fretful. He could tell Rick wanted them to do something interesting, but he couldn't think of anything, and that made him feel thick. And Howard was being no help whatsoever.

"You know Howard dear boy, I've heard certain rumours about you", said Rick coyly.

"What? Rubbish, that fox was making it up", said Howard, much less serenely. "And the llamas were in the line of duty".

"No no, not _those_ rumours, dear boy", Rick assured him. "What I meant was, I heard that you've done some nude film work for Jurgen Haabermaaster".

"Oh yes, a few very tasteful artistic short films", said Howard, slightly nervously.

"You know, I think that's what this documentary really needs", said Rick enthusiastically. "Some extremely tasteful and artistic nudity. Don't you agree Vince, sweetcheeks?".

"Yeah okay, I'm up for whatever", said Vince casually.

He gave a little smile, because he'd always been a bit jealous of Howard getting to do porn films in Denmark, and thought it would be much more fun if they got to do one together instead.

"Er, I don't know about this", said Howard uncomfortably. "I mean a film is one thing, there's a story that you're following, but where is the motivation for it in a documentary?".

"Well dear boy, it would be good to put those rumours that keep following you to rest once and for all, wouldn't it?", said Rick persuasively.

"I already explained about that – the binoculars were for astronomy, and the neighbour didn't close her curtains at night!".

"No no, not _those_ rumours, dear boy", Rick assured him. "What I meant was, there's rumours circulating that your relationship with Vince is a sham".

"What? That's ludicrous", said Howard in honest bafflement. "It's been an open secret that we've been in a romantic relationship for years – _Cheekbone_ said so".

"Mm yes dear boy, I've got the magazine right here", said Rick. "But look at the date on the cover".

He passed it over to Howard, who saw that issue of the magazine was dated April 1, followed by the year.

"You must be joking", said Howard in disbelief. "You think Vince announced our relationship as an April Fool's Day prank?".

"Oh no dear boy, not me", said Rick silkily. "I'm afraid that's what others are saying".

"An awfully elaborate prank", said Howard gruffly. "What was Vince going to do – marry me, let us grow old together, and then just as I topple into the grave, he leaps out and shouts _Gotcha_! Is that what they think?".

"I don't have a clue, my dear Howard", said Rick. "But wouldn't it be totally ginchy to just prove once and for all that you and Vince are a real couple?".

"And how would we do that?", asked Howard warily.

"Make love to each other", said Rick bluntly. "Right here, right now, on the bed, while I film you".

Howard looked desperately at Vince for help. Vince had promised to protect Howard from any creepy men who tried to make him do perverted things, so surely this was his cue to step in and stop Rick.

"Yeah, how about Howard gives me a good bumming?", suggested Vince. "That would shut them up, wouldn't it?".

Unfortunately for Howard, Vince was a little exhibitionist, and he only wanted to stop men doing perverted things with Howard. He was pretty open to the idea of them making Howard do perverted things with Vince while they watched and filmed it. In fact, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

"Or I could bum Howard, if you want", Vince went on. "I mean, I'm fine with it either way".

"I don't feel comfortable with this", said Howard, now definitely no longer calm and relaxed. "I don't remember Mick and Keith bumming in _Gimme Shelter_ ".

"Well not on camera, dear boy", giggled Rick. "Besides, that's what makes this such a groundbreaking idea – you'll be in the first music documentary which includes explicit sex scenes between band members. The critics will go wild. The fans will write even more bandslash at Howince Haven. It will be controversial, and get banned in several countries, which means everyone will see it, and we're almost certain to get an award of some kind".

"I really don't want to do it", said Howard unhappily. "I don't want strangers sharing in my intimate moments with Vince".

"I just knew you were going to be difficult about this", said Rick crossly. "Don't be so precious – it's one teensy little sex scene, it's nothing you haven't done dozens of times before, and you already have experience being nude on camera".

Howard didn't reply, but looked stressed and miserable. He'd given up looking pleadingly at Vince to come to his rescue.

"How about a compromise?", suggested Vince. "What if I just suck Howard off? Howard doesn't have to do anything, nobody sees us bumming, and Howard will look really impressive on camera because the audience will get a good look at everything".

Howard didn't think this was much better, but Rick stroked his chin as if seriously thinking it over, giving Howard a piercing look with his beady little eyes.

"Yeah okay sugartits, I think I can work with that", Rick said at last. "Get into positions".

Vince looked at Howard encouragingly, and with the greatest reluctance, Howard slowly began undoing his trousers. He really was crap at saying no, especially where Vince was concerned.

At that moment, there was a loud crash, and before anyone could react, two men burst through the bedroom door. In an instant, Howard got a vague impression that there was a large man with dark glasses and a beard, probably a gangster of some kind, and a smaller man who was bald, maybe a skinhead, but he didn't hang about for introductions. Their home had been invaded.

"I have so much to give!", Howard shouted, declaiming the Moon family battle cry as he launched himself furiously at the large bearded man. His one thought was to protect Vince, that these ruffians must not be allowed to harm him. He would defend Vince with his life, if necessary.

Vince came at the smaller man like a Cockney bitch, slapping hard and kicking him with his boots. His one thought was that they had better not mess up his face for the wedding photos, or there would be hell to pay.

Rick bravely scarpered. His one thought was to get away as quickly as possible, and he was good at escaping. Unfortunately for him, the men had confederates with them, lying in wait in the living room. He gave one sharp cry, and then there was a chillingly efficient silence.

"Howard you fool, what are you doing?", said the large bearded man in familiar accents.

"Jurgen Haabermaaster?", said Howard in shock, stopping in his tracks. "What are you doing here?".

"So who's this bloke?", asked Vince, stopping as well to see who he was attacking.

"Rick Felcher, film director", announced the bald man, looking furious. "And how dare you assault me, you disgusting ... er ... man?", he finished in some confusion.

"Wait, so who's that other bloke? The one who was here a minute ago", asked Vince, in confusion himself.

"His name is Dick Filcher", said Rick Felcher, sitting on the bed and checking himself for injuries, "and many years ago, he was the second member of 1970s proto-punk duo, The Cracked Nipples. Well, you know how it is with proto-punk musicians, how their careers end ...". His voice trailed off meaningfully.

"They get better-paying jobs and lead happy normal lives?", said Howard hopefully.

"No you damn idiot – Dick abused so many drugs that he became seriously mentally ill!", Rick snapped. "He developed an obsession with me, and eventually came to believe he actually _was_ me. The similarity of our names, and a certain physical resemblance between us, seems to have aided his psychosis".

Howard and Vince looked more closely at Rick. Now that he mentioned it, he _was_ rather like Dick, except he was thinner, paler, and didn't wear glasses. They hadn't realised that Dick was bald, because he always wore a beret.

"For the past thirty years, Dick Filcher was incarcerated in the Greenwich Village Rest Home for the Tragically and Permanently Addled", Rick continued. "A few months ago, he managed to escape, with the assistance of two psychiatric nurses named Wuntermeyer and Turacelli".

"One and Two!", Vince said excitedly, suddenly realising that Dick had actually been calling them Wun and Tu. "But why did they help him?".  
"They developed Reverse Stockholm Syndrome", Jurgen Haabermaaster explained in his deep voice. "It is a condition where those who are holding someone captive come under their spell, and begin to feel sympathy for their objectives. Dick was able to convince Wuntermeyer and Turacelli that they would be able to lead more productive lives as his film crew, so they escaped together, and all three went on the run".

"Dick's first action was to break into my house, attack me, and lock me in the attic", said Rick. "He ate all my hair, leaving me bald like him, then assumed my identity. By the greatest good fortune, my beloved mentor Jurgen Haabermaaster came to visit me, and when I didn't answer the door, he broke it down with his brute strength, and searched the house. I can truthfully say that Jurgen saved my life – I've practically wasted away to nothing being trapped in that attic, surviving only on the home made Christmas cake and sherry I stored there".

Rick wiped his eyes, and Jurgen patted him on the shoulder.

"There, there Rick, the nightmare is over now", he said comfortingly. "Wuntermeyer and Turacelli became disillusioned working as a film crew in London, and alerted the authorities, offering to testify in exchange for immunity from prosecution. When Dick ran out of the room, police were waiting to arrest him. He will be kept under sedation until his trial, wearing a muzzle to ensure he doesn't eat anyone else's hair".

Howard and Vince ran out to see for themselves, realising that Dick was indeed gone.

"We never even got to say goodbye to him!", said Howard, feeling a sudden pang of loss. Dick had been an important part of their lives for months, and now they would never see him again.

"And we feel like a right pair of tits, because he was making a music documentary about us", said Vince.

"That was remarkably unintelligent of you", snorted Jurgen Haabermaster. "If you had realised he was a fraud, a lot of time could have been saved".

"How on earth were we to know?", said Howard. "A famous American director offered to make a film about us – of course we jumped at the opportunity".

"Dick isn't even American", sneered Rick. "He's from Swansea. Didn't you pick up on all the ridiculous slang he was using? Surely you realised nobody actually speaks like that?".

"We thought he was an eccentric genius", Howard said defensively. "And after he said that he read about us in _Hey There, Hackney!_ ...".

"Unbelievable", said Rick. "Wasn't the fact that he subscribed to _Hey There, Hackney!_ something of a giveaway?".

"He explained that Americans were cultured, sophisticated people who knew where Bahrain was on the map and were in touch with all forms of international media".

"No normal American can point out Bahrain on a map", said Rick, shaking his head. "I don't even know if it's a country or a city".

"His story seemed to check out", said Howard wretchedly. "He said he had an arts grant from The Jurgen Haabermaaster Foundation, and had plenty of money to fund the film".

"Well that should have been a major hint", sniffed Rick. "No independent film maker ever says they have plenty of money! Even if we do, we still say we're broke and struggling and can't afford to pay anyone properly".

"So where did Rick ... I mean Dick ... get the money from, then?", asked Vince.

"He stole my credit cards", said Rick. "That's how he's been funding himself".

"He didn't actually have any sponsors?", Howard asked. When Rick shook his head, Howard wailed, "So I've been drinking that awful coffee for nothing!".

"And why did Rick ... I mean Dick ... want to make a documentary about The Mighty Boosh in the first place?", Vince wondered. "Why us?".

"Who can fathom the mind of a madman, except another of his kind?", said Jurgen.

"He read an article about me in a magazine", said Howard slowly. "He almost seemed obsessed with me, and said that I was dashing, and handsome, and a genius, and had edge".

"You see, completely mad", said Jurgen. "I mean really. You, Howard, are about as edgy as a ... what do you call those little orange fruit? Satsuma".

"Well I think Rick ... I mean Dick ... was right", said Vince loyally. "Howard really is a handsome, dashing genius with tons of edge. And he said Howard was a raging colossal and a sexy beast".

"He was obviously even more of a lunatic than I thought", said Jurgen, shaking his head.

"You know, Dick was always the other one of The Cracked Nipples", said Rick. "I mean, the one who's not the frontman".

"The instrumentalist, songwriter, and lyricist", said Howard, with some annoyance.

"Maybe it makes sense that Dick, as another instrumentalist, would fixate on Howard?", suggested Rick. "If I was a psychiatrist, which thank God I'm not, I'd probably say that deep down Dick resented being overlooked in favour of the frontman, and hoped to make Howard the centre of attention – to give him the recognition Dick always thought he himself deserved".

"Absolutely mad", agreed Jurgen.

"He never acted resentful of me at all", argued Vince. "He was always really nice to me, and he said I was talented and an exotic beauty who had tamed Howard. He wanted the film to make both of us stars, and to be about the incredible love story between me and Howard".

"Quite thought-provoking, isn't it?", said Rick. "Makes you wonder how he secretly felt about his own frontman. Perhaps he even planned to take Howard's place at some point".

"So what happens to the film that Rick ... I mean Dick ... has been making?", asked Vince. "He's shot hours and hours of footage, and done interviews, and filmed our concerts and rehearsals".

"It's been seized as evidence", said Jurgen, "and will be destroyed later".

"He might have been a fraud", said Howard, "but I think he really was trying to make a good music documentary. Aren't either of you interested in finishing his film?".

"Are you nuts?", said Rick. "Who wants to see a film by a criminally insane director?".

"I bet lots of people would", said Vince. "It would be like Outsider Art, only an Outsider Film".

"Outsider Art is _so_ 1990s", drawled Rick.

"And who would want to see a film about a musical duo so woefully incompetent they didn't even realise they were being filmed by a crazed lunatic?", said Jurgen with a rough laugh.

"Crazy is as crazy does", said Howard sharply. "And what's sane, anyway?".

"I know you said he wasn't too bright, Jurgen, but I'm still astounded by his stupidity", said Rick with a fascinated stare in Howard's direction.

"Hey, shut up", said Vince angrily. "Howard's the cleverest man I know".

Rick and Jurgen both howled with laughter.

"Now, _that_ I can believe", said Jurgen with a nasty smirk.

"And how dare you make Howard do porn, and then call him stupid ... you ... you ... big Danish prat!", shouted Vince.

"Not pornography, you demented imbecile, but short art films, extremely tasteful", said Jurgen. "And I only cast Howard for comedic purposes – because a film cannot be all pain and rage, you need to lighten it with playfulness. He was there so people could laugh at his comically large penis, at the bestial vulgarity of it".

"If anyone even watched those films, it would have been to see Howard and how handsome and sexy he is", said Vince bitingly. "He would have been the only good thing about them".

"But you know Jurgen", Rick suddenly said, "this moron has come up with an idea which has interested me for a while now. I've been watching videos of this new music duo on MySpace recently, called The Flighty Zeus. I'd love to do a documentary about them – they're the next Flight of the Conchords".

"No they're not", said Vince. "They're the next us, only we're still around, so they can wait their bloody turn. They've completely ripped us off in every possible way. I can't believe you'd want to make a film about them, and not us, the authentic band".

"Authenticity is _so_ 1990s", said Rick dismissively. "Pastiche is going to be big in the 2000s, I can just feel it".

"You are quite right, my dear Rick", agreed Jurgen. "People are tired of the real thing, the _zeitgeist_ is calling for _ersatz_ ".

"I've had enough of this, get out of our flat!", said Vince, pointing to the front door that had been broken in during the manhunt for criminally insane mastermind, Dick Filcher.

"It's _my_ apartment, as it happens", said Rick, "since my credit card has been paying for it. But I don't want to throw you out on the street at this time of night, so as long as you're gone by nine o'clock tomorrow morning, I won't call the cops".

On this crushing blow, Rick and Jurgen swept out, excitedly discussing their plans to make an avant-garde music documentary about The Flighty Zeus, who they thought had the potential to be international stars. Rick said Lance was very cute and charismatic, his costumes were incredible, while Harold was clearly a musical genius and jazz maverick ...

***************************************************

It felt like a long time before either of them said anything.

"Thanks for trying to save me, Howard", said Vince at last. "Even though it was all a mistake, you were still very brave".

"And thanks for defending me to Jurgen Haabermaaster", said Howard. "It means a great deal to me. That man is a total arse".

"He's a complete tosser", Vince said. "I don't know why you ever admired him".

"I'm sorry Vince", Howard said. "You always said this would end badly, and I didn't listen to you. It's all my fault".

"I never thought anything like this would happen", said Vince, "and I agreed to do the film, same as you. It's nobody's fault, except Rick's ... I mean Dick's".

"I don't even know what to do now", said Howard. "You first asked me to be in a relationship so that we could take revenge on Lance and Harold, but it didn't work. They're the ones who will become famous now. It was all for nothing".

"I didn't really ask you because of Lance and Harold", said Vince dully. "It was just an excuse so that we could be together".

"It's kind of you to say that, Vince", said Howard, tears misting his eyes. "Even when I've ruined your life, you're still trying to spare my feelings".

"Don't be a berk, Howard", said Vince. "I'm not saying it to be nice. I'm telling you the truth. I don't care any more if Lance and Harold get famous or not".

"Even so, the reason for us being together is no longer valid", said Howard, speaking in a sadly formal tone. "As a British gentleman, there is only one honourable course of action for me to take. Vince Noir, I release you from our engagement. You are free to seek another spouse of your choice, or to live free of such encumbrances".

"So you're chucking me", said Vince bitterly. "Nobody ever chucked me, until Howard Moon came along and chucked me twice. Once wasn't enough to hurt me, so he had to do it again".

"I'm not chucking you", said Howard. "I promised I'd never leave you, Vince, and I stand by that. I promised we'd be musical partners forever, and that vow remains".

"So what does that mean?", asked Vince.

"We'll still be best friends who love each other, and we can still be The Mighty Boosh if you want", said Howard. "Fleetwood Mac made it work, and we can too. Of course, we won't get famous now".

"I don't care about that", said Vince. "I just want to be with you".

"You will be, Vince", Howard said. "We'll be together just like before. We'll work at the Nabootique together and be in The Mighty Boosh together, and we'll live together. If you don't want the loft apartment, we can even go back to sharing a room at Naboo's flat".

Howard had originally thought that pretending to be Vince's boyfriend would shatter his heart to pieces as if it was made of glass. But as he listened to his own words, he knew that _this_ was what would break his heart: crush it into shards, and pulverise it to sand.

"So everything would just go back to the way it was", said Vince. "What about ... the other stuff?".

"Well, friends help each other out, don't they?", said Howard. "Everyone else bums their friends occasionally, I don't see why we can't as well".

"Occasionally", echoed Vince dolefully.

He reflected that Howard's moods went to pot if he didn't get sex at least once a day. In no time at all, he'd be a nervous, depressed, bad-tempered wreck. Just the way it was before. No doubt they'd soon begin taking their bad moods out on each other, just the way it was before. And Vince would be longing for Howard, gazing at him like a soppy git, his chest aching. Just like before. Except that it would be a thousand times worse, because now he would know exactly what he was missing.

"And don't you think that perhaps .... we're not really meant for romance?", Howard said tentatively. "I mean our pet names for each other are things like titbox and jazzy freak. We hardly ever say I love you. We only ever wrote one love song, _Married On the_ _Morrow_. And it had an unhappy ending".

"So all that stuff about being in love with me and proposing to me and writing poems about me?", said Vince. "What was that, then? And why were we getting married?".

"I don't know, Vince", Howard admitted. "Except ... did it ever seem to you as if something was forcing us together? It felt as if no sooner were we a couple than we had to get engaged. And we didn't even do anything about the wedding and let it slide, and then Naboo of all people just happens to know a wedding planner! Didn't that seem very unlikely?".

Vince nodded, dumbly.

"And then we just got given a flat so we could live by ourselves. And we did nothing about buying a home together, until Leroy arranged for us to meet with his brother, an estate agent. None of these things would have happened if it was all left up to us. It's just ... strange, Vince. It's as if we're the anti Romeo and Juliet – you know, they were star-crossed noble young lovers that Fate kept forcing apart, while we're the opposite of that".

"You mean we're Romana and Julius, two middle-aged peasants who marry with their families' blessing and live happily ever after?", enquired Vince.

"Exactly!", said Howard. "And who would want to watch a play like that?".

"Dunno – maybe people who really like Romana and Julius?", suggested Vince.

"Don't be ridiculous, Vince! Nobody would like Romana and Julius", said Howard firmly.

"Oh I dunno. I'm getting quite fond of them", said Vince.

"Vince, just let me ask you one question", Howard said. "Do you want to marry me?".

There was a long silence. Vince looked down at the floor, as if it held all the answers.

Eventually, his head rose, and he looked Howard straight in the eye.

"No", he said softly. "I don't".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick Filcher has a few things in common with John Cale from The Velvet Underground. They're both Welsh from the Swansea area, both lived in Greenwich Village and were members of proto-punk bands, and both abused drugs until it affected their mental health. Of course, John Cale never had Dick's problems, and he got himself cleaned up; he has since spoken out about the dangers of drug use. 
> 
> The opposite of Stockholm Syndrome, where the captor begins to feel sympathy or camaraderie with their hostage, is actually known as Lima Syndrome. Either the phrase never came to exist in their universe, or Jurgen Haabermaaster, who has English as his third (?) language, is unaware of it. 
> 
> Howard reworks two quotes from "Forrest Gump" as an allusion to "The Nightmare of Milky Joe", partly based on "Castaway", another Tom Hanks film (although I don't think Julian actually saw the film, but don't worry, I haven't seen "Forrest Gump" all the way through either).


	20. Are We to Be Married on the Morrow?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obvious question has to get answered, and Vince's brain finally kicks into gear.

_Howard woke slowly, barely opening his eyes. He didn't know where he was, and the light looked different. It was like the light in memories and dreams – it made everything look both unreal and too real. He heard Vince's voice._

_"Morning, gorgeous", said Vince._

_He felt Vince's warm breath, and his lips against his as Vince kissed him._

_"Do you want breakfast?", Vince asked._

_But Howard pulled Vince into his arms. If this was a memory, he wanted to keep on remembering. If this was a dream, he wanted to keep dreaming ..._

****************************************************

Wait, I just realised what I did there. I accidentally did that thing they do in movies, where they suddenly flash forward to some future point, and you don't know what it means or what's going on, or whether it's actually a flashback or a dream sequence or an alternate reality or something.

There's only one thing to do after you accidentally do a flash forward like that, and I know it's really annoying, but I'm going to have to press the rewind button, or else you'll miss a big chunk of the story.

REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND ...

_"And do you know how difficult that would be?", asked Janet crossly. "It's not easy sending humans back in time"._

Oops. Still not far enough.

REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND REWIND ...

***************************************************

"Vince, just let me ask you one question", Howard said. "Do you want to marry me?".

There was a long silence. Vince looked down at the floor, as if it held all the answers.

Eventually, his head rose, and he looked Howard straight in the eye.

"No", he said softly. "I don't".

"What?", asked Howard faintly.

"I said I don't want to marry you, Howard. Not like this".

"What do you mean, Vince?".

"Everything got out of control, like you said", Vince explained. "I mean, why are we getting married in a chapel? You never go to church, and it's not even my religion".

"I suppose I asked for that to please my grandparents", said Howard slowly.

"And why are we getting married at our old college? You didn't finish your degree. Did you even _like_ college, Howard?".

"Not really", admitted Howard. "American Studies wasn't what I thought it was going to be, and I didn't make any friends on the course. I just wanted to hang out with you, but you were too busy with your arty mates to pay me any attention. Most of the time I was unhappy and lonely, and felt like a failure. College was one of the worst times of my life, actually".

"Well, that part was all wrong, then", said Vince. "Why would you get married in a place that made you miserable?".

"Janet booked it", said Howard. "She can't read my mind, so she wouldn't have known all that".

"Why can't we just get married without any fuss?", asked Vince. "And then have the reception at The Velvet Onion with our friends and family, like we planned?".

"Oh in the name of Our Lord Brian", whispered Howard in horror. "Rick was supposed to pay for the wedding ... I mean Dick said he would, but he was insane. We're meant to be getting married in twelve hours, and we've got no way of paying for it".

"Yes ... you see, we never would have planned a wedding like this if we didn't have Rick ... I mean Dick ... talking us into it and saying it would be huge and incredible and romantic", said Vince. "It feels like everything has been done so it would look good in a film that will never be made. It's a total cock up".

Howard could feel an actual, no fooling panic attack coming on. He thought he might have to shut himself in the wardrobe and give himself Chinese burns until he could get himself under control.

"And there's more to it than that", Vince went on inexorably. "You told me that you released me from our engagement, and our lives could go back the way they were before".

"It was the only honourable thing to do, Vince", began Howard.

"You could never say that if you really believed that I loved you", said Vince. "You would have known it would torture me and break my heart".

"It's not that I don't believe you", said Howard gently. "It's that I don't think you've ever had a choice in the matter".

"What are you going on about, Howard?", demanded Vince.

"I found out you were right, I _am_ a wizard", said Howard. "I became one when I inherited Comyn Castle. And a Comyn wizard always meets their true love within a year of inheriting the castle. I inherited the castle just before I turned eleven, and a few months later I met you at boarding school".

"So where's the problem?", asked a baffled Vince. "Everything worked out the way it was supposed to".

"Except that you didn't get any say in it", said Howard. "The magic pulled you towards me, and because you were the only person I could ever truly love, the magic forced you to love me".

"That's absolute bollocks", said Vince.

"Really? Bryan Ferry said that you fell in love with me on the very first day we met, even though we didn't even know each other, and were only children. That doesn't sound ... a bit wrong ... to you?".

"Yeah but that's just you, innit?", Vince said. "People _have_ to go a bit wrong to love you, that's how it _works_ with you".

"That just shows you've never loved me by your own free will", said Howard sadly. "You're like the fairy queen in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , falling in love with a fool with a donkey's head because she's been put under a magic spell".

Vince didn't say anything. He knew Howard had everything arse about tit; he always analysed things too much, and twisted them around until they meant something horrible. But there was no point speaking until he could get it straight in his mind.

Something about magic ... about the way magic worked ... something about the delicate psychological balance ... he would remember in a minute if he could just have a bit of quiet. He wasn't thick like people thought, he could work things out if he just had a bit more time ...

That's it, Vince thought. He remembered now. It had been Naboo who told him about how magic worked years ago, he'd been a bit narky with him because Vince had stuffed everything up. Naboo had said that you can't _tell_ people that something is magic, or they won't believe it's real. That was the problem – Howard had found out about being a wizard, and now he didn't believe that Vince really loved him. Vince had stuffed up again: he should have kept quiet about the wizard thing.

But Naboo had once given Vince a magic satsuma, which when eaten together, could help Vince tell Howard how he felt, and Howard would actually listen and believe him. Only Vince had stuffed that up and all. Oh fuck, maybe he _was_ a bit thick ... There had to be something he could do ... he would think of it, he wouldn't be thick, he wouldn't stuff it up this time ...

Vince paused. He really thought he had it this time.

"Howard, do you still have the dried peel you kept from our first satsuma fight?", he asked.

Vince struggled to keep his voice light and casual; he mustn't let Howard think this was something important, or it would all get stuffed up again.

"What? Yes, it's in my memory box", said a puzzled Howard. "But why ...?".

"Can you get it please? Just so we can see it again", said Vince.

Howard trotted off, and came back with the envelope of satsuma peel that he had dried in the autumn sun, so many years ago. They both sat on the floor together. Vince opened the envelope, and breathed in the satsuma scent. It still had a strong citrusy smell, as if no time had passed. It was a magic satsuma created by a shaman, so perhaps time and space meant nothing to it.

Almost absentmindedly, Vince took a piece of peel and ate it. He had expected it to be hard and tasteless after so many years, but it was sweet and tangy, still fresh and soft in his mouth.

Vince offered the peel to Howard, and after a brief hesitation, he ate a piece too. Howard didn't know why they were eating old satsuma peel, but somehow he didn't feel like arguing over it or worrying about it.

The peel was delicious, almost unbearably so, containing the very essence of every beautiful autumn day. As they ate the satsuma peel, both of them were reminded of seasons past, of Howard making Vince a hot breakfast and telling him to keep his jacket zipped up against the chill, of cool autumn nights where they snuggled together in blankets to laugh and joke and tell each other the weirdest stories.

Neither of them spoke, but they smiled at one another, as if they were both sharing the same memories, and they looked into each other's eyes, as if there they would find the answers they had always sought.

When they finished eating, Vince took Howard's hand, and began speaking to him in a soft voice.

"Howard, when I first met you, I thought you were tall and handsome, and incredibly clever. You knew so much about the world, and I knew almost nothing except forests and animals and trees and rivers. But that isn't the reason I fell in love with you. It was because you gave me what nobody else had ever given me: you made me feel safe, and cared for, and you made me feel as if I had come home".

It did not hit Howard like a lightning bolt, but as if something had settled deep within him, some calm centre that spread all through his being and went to every corner of his self. He knew Vince's love: its height and depth and breadth, that it would last beyond time and space, and existed in all possible worlds. He knew Vince was not only his best friend and dearest companion, but the other half of himself, without whom he could never be whole.

Howard now understood that their love was so powerful that it would always pull them together, like autumn magnets. It even affected other people around them: Bryan Ferry would unknowingly choose a certain school for Vince, so that he could meet Howard there. The owner of the Zooniverse would demand that Howard find himself an assistant, propelling him to contact his friend Vince, who understood animals and spoke their languages. Lance, Harold, Naboo, Janet, Leroy, Royle, Dave - even a poor bewildered creature locked up in New York - joined the dance of magic, became threads which bound Vince and Howard more closely together.

Howard began to say something in return, but the feelings of happiness kept bubbling up inside him, like champagne bubbles that were going to pop all at once, and then he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed, as if Vince had said the funniest thing in the world, instead of the wisest and most beautiful.

"I just told you why I love you, and you laughed at me", smiled Vince.

"I know – I can't help it – you make me laugh, Vince", giggled Howard helplessly.

Howard pulled Vince down on the floor next to him, and they rolled around together, tickling each other and laughing, and wrestling each other like playful cubs, and finally kissing together – innocent kisses like children and fierce kisses like wild beasts and gentle kisses like sweethearts and passionate kisses like lovers.

And afterwards Howard just smiled and smiled at Vince. He didn't need to say anything. It had all been said. Words would ruin it, they were quite inadequate to the task of telling Vince that he understood, that he believed him, that he knew.

Vince knew the peel was magic, so according to Naboo, he shouldn't believe their love was real. Except that Vince thought everything was real, and he didn't believe in analysing everything, or anything really. It was sorted. It was all good. That was enough.

****************************************************

Howard and Vince remained sitting on the floor, holding hands, and looking into each other's eyes while smiling as if something very funny had just happened.

"But you know, Vince", said Howard, "we've still got a wedding ceremony booked that we don't want, and a reception booked that we can't pay for, and it's almost midnight".

"Call Janet", said Vince at once. "She'll know what to do".

Howard blew on Janet's card, and she knocked on the door, even though it didn't actually shut properly now and she could have walked right in. While Howard got his tool kit and started mending the lock on the door, Vince told Janet what a muddle they had got themselves into – partly with words, and partly with Janet reading his mind, looking increasingly concerned.

"So you want me to help you elope?", asked Janet. "This really goes beyond the role of a wedding planner: in fact, it may even break The Wedding Planners' Code of Conduct".

"Please Janet, we're meant to be getting married tomorrow, and it's almost tomorrow now", begged Vince, giving her his most charming, most dazzling smile possible.

"Yes well that's part of the problem, isn't it?", said Janet, not looking as if Vince's smiles were anything special to her at all. "You haven't given me much time to fix this up".

"But you're a shaman – you've evolved beyond time and space", said Vince persuasively.

"And exactly how do you imagine going back in time will help in this situation?", asked Janet.

Vince thought for a moment.

"Could you take us back in time to before we got engaged so we could start again? Or even before we became a couple? You know, Howard asked me out to dinner on my last birthday to tell me he loved me, but I turned him down, because I was angry that he'd left me to go to Denmark, after promising he'd never leave me. What if we went back in time, only this time I said yes?".

"And do you know how difficult that would be?", asked Janet crossly. "It's not easy sending humans back in time – you're not shamans, and are still bound by the laws of time and space. It would take very powerful magic that is only used to right great wrongs, not undo simple human regrets".

Vince looked flummoxed.

"And how do you know you would say yes to Howard?", Janet continued. "The same thing could happen all over again. It could end up worse than before. And are you willing to lose all the memories and knowledge you gained in this timeline?".

Vince looked torn, because he and Howard had made a lot of memories together since they became a couple. The thought of losing them all was horrible, even some of their stupid fights and arguments had taught them valuable lessons. Even the huge mistake of getting involved with Dick Filcher had helped bring he and Howard closer together, in some ways. And he'd only just got Howard to believe that he truly loved him, and it had been really hard work for his brain. He didn't know if he could come up with another brilliant plan to persuade him.

Howard finished mending the door, and came over to them.

"We won't tell you what needs doing, Janet", he said. "You know far more than us, and we will abide by your counsel. We can only beseech you, in the name of Universal Peace and Love, to please help us get married on the morrow".

Janet looked at them both, and sighed. They really were two of the most exasperating clients she'd ever had, but after all, they _were_ human, and therefore vastly inferior and needed her assistance. And one of them was a wizard, which made a big difference. Even shamans don't like pissing off wizards. And he had asked for her help in the name of Universal Peace and Love, which meant she pretty much _had_ to do it; wizards were so cunning.

And besides all that, she could see that they truly loved each other – the kind of love that would last beyond time and space, and existed in all possible worlds. There was a power in that kind of love, a magic that she couldn't ignore. As a licensed and accredited wedding planner, it was her sworn duty to bring people together when they loved each other like that.

"Of course I will help you", Janet said. "But it's going to cost".

Because Janet might be bound by the laws of Universal Peace and Love and have a healthy respect for wizards, but she was still a shaman, and they are practical creatures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the backstory to the satsuma created by Naboo, see "Satsumas Are Not the Only Fruit". 
> 
> I actually intended this to be the final chapter of the story, in the touchingly optimistic belief I could very quickly tie the rest of the story up in another 3000-5000 words, then follow it up with a short epilogue. Ha! Either this requires far more talent that I possess, needs ruthless nerves of brute steel that I don't have, or else I just got way too attached to Howard and Vince to say goodbye to them quite so abruptly.


	21. Scenes From a Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An impressionistic look at Howard and Vince's big day, including a few surprises, not to mention satsumas, jam, and ABBA.

"Are you ready yet, Vince?", Howard called anxiously. They had so much to do this morning, and Vince seemed to be taking ages as usual.

At that moment, Vince came out of the bedroom, and both he and Howard stared at each other's wedding outfits, which they had chosen with Janet's help.

"Is this meant to be fancy dress?", Howard asked, with a gesture at Vince's clothing. "What are you supposed to be – an organ-grinder's monkey whose lost his organ-grinder?".

"You can talk", retorted Vince. "I mean, what's _that_ you've got on?".

"You go first", said Howard.

Vince was wearing a perfectly respectable dark suit with a white rosebud in his lapel. He didn't have a trace of make-up on, his hair hadn't been straightened and was free of all hair products. He looked like a great many other attractive men in their early thirties with longish dark hair who are about to be married.

"I didn't want you to marry an image or a costume, Howard", Vince said. "I wanted you to marry me, just Vince. And I wanted us to look like everyone else so we could blend in with the crowd, like you always wanted".

"Well, you look both very beautiful _and_ very handsome", said Howard. "And now I can do this without worrying about smudging your make-up". He put his arms around him and kissed Vince deeply.

"Hey, be careful getting the suit wrinkled", said Vince, smoothing it out. "Now, what the bleeding heck are _you_ playing at?".

"This is my clan tartan", said Howard proudly. "As the laird of Comyn Castle, it is traditional to marry in my clan colours of red and green".

"I can't believe that I'm getting married in trousers, and you're getting married in a skirt!", said Vince.

"It's not a skirt, it's a kilt", Howard corrected him.

"Mm yeah, kilt is just Scottish for skirt", Vince said. "And ... is that an actual sporran?".

"It certainly is", said Howard. "A traditional wedding sporran with formal thistle and dagger design. And I'm wearing a morning suit with it, because it's morning, with the clan tartan over it".

"Blimey, you look like the Highlander disguised as Lord Peter Wimsey", said Vince. "The top hat sets it all off, and your legs look really sexy".

"Anyway, we have to meet Janet at the Town Hall by ten past nine", said Howard. "We need to hurry".

They raced downstairs, thankful that Janet had already sent all their possessions ahead to the loft apartment so they could be out of Rick Felcher's flat by nine o'clock. Howard got on his bicycle, and Vince sat on the handlebars as Howard pedalled furiously to the Town Hall, his kilt blowing in the breeze.

Howard received a few wolf whistles, which was natural because of his strong, willowy legs, but Vince insisted the wolf whistles had been directed at him. He was convinced he had a very alluring way of sitting on handlebars that others couldn't help but notice. Vince might have been right, I don't know.

***************************************************

The woman who worked at the Town Hall's registration office was having a terrible morning. A large man with a moustache, wearing a top hat and a tweed skirt, kept showing her reams and reams of paperwork, all carefully and correctly filled out. The fact that they had not given the stipulated twenty-nine days notice for the venue didn't seem to be making an impression on him.

Every time she asked for further identification, a weird-looking woman in a long nightgown with a daisy painted on her face and a wreath of roses on her head kept popping just out of her sight, then suddenly popping back again, with whatever document the registration office woman had asked for. It was positively uncanny, and made her feel funny in her insides. The large man in the tweed skirt would then patiently fill out another round of paperwork.

It was a nightmare, and it had been going on for almost an hour now. The woman in the Town Hall registration office had never read any Kafka, but if she was forced to, she would have felt an immediate understanding of it.

Suddenly a totally normal and really quite nice-looking man in a suit lounged his way over to her desk to add his two euros to the discussion.

"Hi, I'm Vince Noir, rock and roll star. By the way, I love what you've done with your hair – looks amazing".

And then Vince gave her a big toothy sunshine grin, and somehow, the dazzled woman wasn't really sure how, she was rubber-stamping everything and accepting the 110 euros necessary to book the small Assembly Room, and agreeing that Howard and Vince could have it at ten-thirty that morning.

Sometimes Vince's magic was really better than either a wizard's or a shaman's.

******************************************************

Rose, Percy, Bryan Ferry, Leroy, Naboo, and Bollo all arrived at the Town Hall more or less together, in plenty of time for the wedding.

"Mum, were you brought here by magic?", Howard asked, rushing to hold his mother's hand with the idea of soothing her after the ordeal.

"What? No, Howie darling – Janet sent us a text saying the wedding venue had been changed. We came in a taxi with Bryan Ferry".

Rose tucked a stray strand of hair under her hat, and gave Howard's hand a quick squeeze. She decided he must be having a bad case of wedding nerves.

"I sent everyone else a text saying that you were eloping, and to only attend the reception", said Janet, looking pleased with her own efficiency.

In fact, she had forgotten to send one to Adam Ant, who arrived at St. Caedmon's Chapel ready to sing the wedding hymn, and found nobody there except Terry. Luckily, Terry gave him a cup of tea and talked soothingly about county cricket, and Adam Ant and Terry ended up being good friends who often went to cricket matches together when they both had free time.

So no harm was done by Janet's mistake, although I must stress that forgetting the celebrity guest singer at your wedding is very bad manners indeed, and please try not to do that if you can help it.

Speaking of singers, Howard was having another run-in with the woman at the registration office, who told him there was a choice of only two wedding songs provided by the Town Hall: _I Do I Do I Do I Do I Do_ , and _I Knew the Bride (When She Used to Rock_ _and Roll)_.

"Two men can't get married to ABBA", Howard complained. "It's the most hideous cliche".

"Well pick the other one, then", the woman said reasonably.

"Neither of us are a bride, we still rock and roll, and I can't believe anyone would ever choose that song for their wedding!".

"Well pick the ABBA one, then", the woman said with a touch of asperity.

"Excuse me", said Bryan Ferry, coming forward, "but if you allow people to supply their own music, I would be happy to sing one of my many hit songs at my child's wedding. I'm Bryan Ferry".

"Are you sure?", said the woman sceptically. "Because you don't look like Bryan Ferry; more like Terry Wogan, if anything".

"I've had just about enough of your lip, girlie", said Howard in a temper. "You will treat my father-in-law Bryan Ferry with respect, do you hear me? And all other trans-celebrities as well".

And so it came to pass that Naboo walked Vince down the aisle to the strains of Bryan Ferry singing _Avalon_ , accompanied by Bollo, looking sweet in a little white veil, carrying a bouquet of sunflowers. Bollo was weeping quietly, and saying he had a good feeling about this, for a wonder.

When they got to the front of the room, Vince kissed Naboo on his forehead, and whispered that he would never, never forget everything that Naboo had done for them. Naboo looked smug, and wiped the kiss off fastidiously. He didn't call Vince a ballbag, for a wonder.

Howard gave Vince a shifty little look, and received a grin in reply. Leroy stood by Howard with the wedding rings, because of course Leroy would never forget the rings, or lose them, or be late turning up.

At this moment, the woman from the registration office dashed in, looking incredibly self-satisfied, to tell them there weren't any celebrants on duty, and that no wedding could be performed that day after all. Before Howard could have an instant meltdown, Janet stepped forward with a smile, saying that she was a fully licensed and accredited marriage celebrant, and would be delighted to perform the ceremony.

And then Howard thought the whole thing was a blur, from _Welcome friends to the wedding of Vince and Howard in this place duly sanctioned by law_ , to _By the power vested in me by the Borough of Hackney, and in the name of Universal Peace and Love, I_ _now proclaim you husband and husband_. In short, dear Reader, Janet married them, and as their lips met, they went from being Vince Noir and Howard Moon to Vince and Howard Noir-Moon in an instant.

"A lovely ceremony, Howie darling", Rose said, as she came forward to sign the register. "It was a very nice touch, a giant blue panther suddenly appearing to give her blessing. But I didn't quite understand all that part about Yetis".

*******************************************************

Right after the wedding photos on the beautiful Art Deco steps of the Town Hall, Janet sent Howard's bicycle ahead to the loft so that he and Vince could catch a taxi to the reception with Percy, Rose, and Bryan Ferry. When they got there, Howard found that The Velvet Onion had been decorated exactly to Vince's specifications, which meant it was wonderfully colourful and soft and glittery and sparkly.

"But how are we still having a reception at all?", asked Howard.

"I literally have no idea", replied Vince. His brain refused to even guess; it was still tired from the extraordinary feat of getting Howard to understand he really loved him.

"Vince my child, it is the least I could do, to help pay for your wedding to the man you have been in love with since the day you met", said Bryan Ferry.

"And if you'd had a sister Howard, we would have paid for her wedding", said Percy. "But you don't, so you and Vince are getting it instead".

"We'd help you a lot more if you'd let us, Howie darling", said Rose, "but you're so stubborn and independent, like all the Moons".

There were many hugs and kisses and thanks, and Howard made a point of giving Bryan Ferry an extra special hug, promising that he would take care of Vince, and that Bryan didn't have to worry about him any more. Bryan said he had to go and get ready to perform some of his many hit songs at the reception, and Howard didn't grit his teeth at all.

"When did you ask Mum, Dad and Bryan to help pay for the wedding?", Howard muttered to Janet, who was walking beside him with a fresh wreath of roses in her hair, white this time.

"I popped back in time and asked them in July", Janet said with a superior smile. "The reception's been fully paid for these last two months".

Howard couldn't believe how many people were at the wedding reception. There was Dave, shouting, "Oi Howard, you muppet", and Viv yelling "Wotcher Howard", and Holly hugging Vince again and again, and looking overwhelmed that she was actually attending the wedding of her idol, the greatest musical genius to walk the earth. She told Howard that her grandmother couldn't make it, but Gran had given Howard and Vince a crate of rosehip jam and preserves as a present.

"There's a whole crowd of people here I don't even recognise", Howard said.

"You invited them to the wedding on your birthday", Janet explained. "I saw it in Vince's mind, so I brought them all".

"Oh Lord, I did too. I was drunk at the time", Howard said in consternation.

Even the Australian backpacker had come, telling Howard he was a bloody beaut bloke for inviting him, and explaining that he was now the editor of _Dazed & Confused_, and would love to publish a think piece on the aesthetics of Vince's arse some time – it looked as if another of Vince's dreams was about to come true. The backpacker then went to the bar to get plastered on free grog.

There were hordes of Icelandic tourists, who had all witnessed the kiss between Howard and Vince, and wanted to celebrate their wedding. The Icelandic tourists were already pissed as newts. And every shaman in Britain had come, and half of them were either drunk, or high, or both. And at least one of them was performing acts of the foulest depravity: it was lucky The Velvet Onion didn't have a swimming pool.

********************************************************

Howard and Vince watched as Bryan Ferry launched into one of his many hit songs, _Let's Stick Together_ , to entertain people while they had cocktails.

"Why did Bryan choose this song for our wedding?", grumbled Vince. "It's about a couple breaking up".

"It's to remind us that if we ever have any relationship problems in the future, we have to stay with each other", said Howard, loyally sticking up for Bryan Ferry.

"And it says 'the man' has put us together", went on Vince, knocking back his third flirtini. "It wasn't a man, it was Janet, and she's not even human".

"He means _The Man_ put us together", explained Howard. "It means we're married in the eyes of the law, under the aegis of the Borough of Hackney".

"And what does he mean, consider our child?", Vince said. " _What_ child?".

"He's talking about Beatrice – that we have to consider her needs before our own", said Howard. "Or maybe Theodore".

"Who's Theodore?".

"Our son, in case he's born before Beatrice. I'd actually like Beatrice to have a big brother. And we could call him Teddy, like jazz pianist Teddy Wilson".

"You do realise every other man would be running away screaming at this point, don't you?".

"You said every _other_ man", smiled Howard, who was busy planning a Winnie-the-Pooh theme for Teddy's nursery.

*******************************************************

Bryan took Vince aside when he'd finished his first set, saying they had to have a serious talk.

"Vince my child, it has taken me many years, longer than I ever thought it would, but with the help of a team of genealogists, I have finally tracked your family down".

"Who are they then?", Vince asked, with interest.

"I have your family tree here. On your father's side, you are descended from French dukes and Russian postal workers. Your mother's side of your family is a mixture of East End boxers, wrestlers, actors, circus performers, fairground folk, puppeteers, sailors, spivs, criminals, and gay prostitutes, all descended from a Pearly King and Queen who were a costermonger and a street sweeper".

"Everyone in the family tree seems to be connected with everyone else", Vince commented.

"Yes well, they managed to be both culturally diverse and remarkably inbred", Bryan Ferry explained. "That's why you have such a striking appearance. And I have a telegram from your parents, that they wanted read at your wedding".

Bryan Ferry passed it over to Vince. When he opened the envelope, he found it wasn't so much a telegram as a dirty scrap of paper scrawled on with coloured crayons.

"I can't hold it", said Vince in a trembling voice. "My hands are shaking too much. You read it to me, Howard".

Howard scanned the paper quickly. It read: _orl rite vinc? we tole yew to stay unner dat tree in da forrest an we wold be bak butt yew naffed orf an we cudint be bovvered runin rown arfter a darft sod wot dint lissen or nuffin an aint got da sens to stay put. we herd as how yew is maryin a rich jent an sowns liek yew hav propr fell on yore feet if yew dunt mine taken it up da bum. wid kinderst regards yore parrents mr & mrs noir_

A horrified Howard translated this into something more palatable and indeed, intelligible.

"It says: _Our dearest son Vince, We are so sorry for the terrible misunderstanding which led you to believe we had abandoned you in the forest. We intended to return for you, and have spent these many years since searching for you, to no avail. We are thankful to learn that you are safe and well, and wish you hearty congratulations on your wedding day to the man of your choice. If only we could be reunited, but unfortunately we are just about to emigrate to a remote island off the coast of Patagonia, which is completely cut off from the outside world. Please forgive us and remember us fondly, if you can, for we will often be thinking of you. All our love, Mum and Dad_ ".

"Oh Howard, it's just like you always said – they never meant to leave me in the forest, and it was all a mistake! They never forgot me, and never stopped looking for me", said Vince, his blue eyes shining. "It's such a pity they're leaving for Patagonia, just as they found me".

Howard turned away, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Howard, can I please have their letter now, so I can read it myself?", asked Vince.

"I'm sorry Vince – it was careless of me, but I accidentally burned the paper up in a candle on this table", said Howard. "I think my own hand was shaking with emotion as I held it".

"Don't worry, Howard", Vince comforted him. "I can remember every word, and the important thing is that now I know I have parents who gave me all their love, and didn't mean to leave me".

"But you know Vince my child", said Bryan Ferry, "I will always consider you my beloved son, and I hope you will think of me as your father, too".

Vince embraced Bryan Ferry, and Howard reminded him that now Percy and Rose were his family as well, and they had never stopped loving and caring for him. Vince said he was the luckiest person in the world to have five parents, and they were all wonderful. He couldn't understand why Howard kept looking upset; it must be the strain of the wedding catching up with him.

***********************************************************

Vince and Howard had taken to the dance floor, and Vince was once again impressed by what a good dancer Howard was. He was doing a rather determined but acceptable waltz, although insisting on leading, even though Vince was the one wearing trousers.

Bryan Ferry was on a break from singing, and had asked Chris de Burgh to take over for him.

"I can't believe we're doing our wedding dance to _The Lady in Red_ ", said Howard in disgust. "Neither of us is a lady, and neither of us is wearing red".

"You're the closest thing", giggled Vince. "You've got on a red and green checked skirt".

"Look, I am not the girl!", Howard insisted. "I've got a bloody moustache. And there's nothing girly about kilts – they were worn by fierce warriors who came at you like northern bullets".

"No way is that bloke the real Chris de Burgh anyway. He doesn't even look like him – he's just put massive fake eyebrows on", Vince said.

"Now Vince, it can be very challenging to be a trans-celebrity", Howard chided him. "The copyright issues alone are a legal minefield for them. We should be offering Chris de Burgh our support, not criticising his appearance".

"And who invited him?", Vince asked. "I certainly didn't".

"I think he came with Bryan", Howard replied. "You know, from the way Bryan Ferry is looking at Chris de Burgh, there's going to be more wedding bells in the future".

"Ooh yuck, no way", Vince protested.

"Yes, I think it's going to be a case of _Vince Has Two Foster-Daddies_ ", Howard said, with a teasing smile.

"Nooo, I feel ill", Vince wailed.

"It's okay – you can call them Daddy Bryan and Daddy Chris, so you don't get them confused", Howard said. "And then you'll have six parents".

"It's not happening, it's not happening", Vince muttered distractedly to himself.

"And who knows, if we ever stay with them, I might just watch their sex tape", Howard smirked into his moustache. "Because Bryan Ferry and Chris de Burgh deserve to have a healthy sex life, just like us".

"You're sick, you know that?", Vince said. "Perverted, and sick, and gone very, very wrong".

Vince kissed Howard so that he'd shut up about Bryan Ferry and Chris de Burgh, and then gently slid his hands under Howard's kilt. He suddenly stopped.

"Howard, you're not wearing anything under your skirt!", said Vince in surprise.

"It's not a skirt, and it's tradition to wear nothing under a kilt", said Howard pompously.

"You tart", purred Vince. "Anyone could be feeling you up like this. You're practically asking for it, aren't you? Begging for it, actually".

"Hey be careful with that ... and those ... You're meant to be dancing with me, you little titbox, not mucking about under my kilt ...".

"Don't worry Howard, I can do both things at once", promised Vince, with his most angelic smile.

Howard did as he was told, and stopped worrying. He was getting better at that.

*****************************************************

After lunch, Naboo and Bollo brought out the cake, which was a satsuma-flavoured one, with rosehip icing, decorated with sugared satsuma blossoms. Large and impressive, it was topped by figurines of Vince and Howard which looked like almost exact replicas of them. The cake elicited a lot of oohing and aahing from that section of the crowd who were still capable of speech, and cared about cakes.

"Is this a magic satsuma cake?", Vince asked eagerly.

"No you ballbag, it's just an ordinary cake, yeah?", Naboo answered.

"Er, it doesn't have any hash in it, does it?", asked a concerned Howard.

"Not on purpose", said Naboo, not very reassuringly. "But you know, there's hash all over the flat and in my clothes and on Bollo, so some might have got mixed in accidentally".

Howard tried not to think about bits of Bollo accidentally getting into the cake, as he and Vince cut it together, Howard's big hands covering Vince's smaller ones on the knife handle. Vince said he was meant to make a wish, but Howard thought that so many of his wishes had come true already that it seemed greedy to ask for any more. Vince couldn't tell Howard his wish, because then it wouldn't come true. Everyone knows that.

The cake was delicious, almost unbearably so. Sweet and tangy, it tasted like the very essence of every beautiful autumn day, and evoked memories of every pleasurable autumn night. If there was any hash or gorilla hair accidentally in it, nobody could detect it from the flavour.

Those who ate the cake found themselves bubbling over with happiness, so that soon everyone was smiling or laughing, their hearts gladdened. Conversation became wise and sweet and merry, and it was almost impossible to talk with friends and loved ones after eating it without holding their hand, or putting arms around them, or kissing them, or rubbing noses.

I think it worth recording that everyone who ate Howard and Vince's wedding cake found their true love within a year of eating it, while those already in happy partnerships discovered their relationship deepened and became stronger. People who didn't want romance in their lives made wonderful lifelong friendships, or learned of universal peace or country cricket, or something else which opened their hearts to joy, for there are many different types of love in the world, and they're all real. In the following year or two, there was such a number of engagements and marriages and vow renewals that soon everyone invited to them looked knowing and said, "You were at Vince and Howard's wedding, weren't you?".

There was a veritable baby boom in Hackney and Camden, including many born to those who didn't believe they could have babies, or didn't think they wanted them until they arrived, and then fell smack bang in love with them. All the babies were exceptionally beautiful – at least, their parents thought so.

But I've got ahead of myself, because this was all in the future. For now, Vince and Howard hadn't even eaten their own cake. They cut slices for others, and then sat with Naboo, thanking him for making such a wonderful wedding cake, which everyone seemed to be enjoying.

"Oh by the way Naboo", Vince said, "would it be okay if we stayed in your spare room tonight? We had to leave the flat we were in, and there's no furniture at our new one yet".

"That's Adam and Steve's room now", replied Naboo. "I rented it to them after they said they had nowhere to live. They said they didn't mind sharing. Seemed to quite like the idea, actually".

"But you only hired Adam and Steve while we were on holiday and on our honeymoon", said Howard. "Why would they need to live over the Nabootique?".

"I've given them your old jobs, yeah?", said Naboo casually. "They work for lower wages, pay more rent, and don't need four weeks holiday every year. They're only taking two weeks each, and not at the same time".

"I can't believe you'd sack us on our wedding day!", said a shocked Vince. "How can Adam and Steve possibly be as good as us? We've got years of experience".

"In some ways, they're better", Naboo said. "Adam doesn't stress about every little thing like Howard, and Steve actually turns up to work on time, unlike you, Vince".

"That's an extremely hurtful thing to say", Howard said. "I'm far less stressed now than I used to be, and Vince was only late _some_ mornings because he takes pride in his appearance, and wouldn't turn up to work looking anything less than stunning".

Vince glowed at these words, although he felt a bit guilty knowing mostly he'd just been messing about and lost track of time.

"I thought we'd work at the Nabootique forever", said Vince dismally.

"Look, you guys are getting a bit old for it", said Naboo. "I need people who'll appeal to a younger demographic, yeah?".

"So you're chucking us", said Howard bitterly. "You've found someone new and exciting, and you're casting us aside like unwanted jam". He comforted Vince, who was having an immediate breakdown at being told he was too old for something.

"What do you mean, I'm chucking you?", Naboo said aloofly. "Can you only be friends with me if you're working for me or living with me?".

Howard assured Naboo that of course they were still friends. They would come around all the time, and Naboo and Bollo had to come over for dinner at their new place, which was only twenty minutes walk away.

Naboo smiled enigmatically, and began packing up two slices of cake to take home to Adam and Steve. He thought it might help those two ballbags – Steve kept looking at Adam all hopeful and gooey-eyed, but Adam just went shy when it happened, and started nervously yapping about stock-taking. They'd be happier sharing a room after having some cake, Naboo was pretty sure. They just needed to learn to keep the bedroom door closed, and not get any dairy products involved.

******************************************************

Howard and Vince sat in silence together, too shattered to touch their wedding cake.

"Unbelievable. We're starting our married life together homeless and unemployed", said Howard.

Royle's words kept ringing in his ears: _How long do you think you'll be at your current employment anyway? Do you see yourself there in five years? What about ten?_ It hadn't even been ten weeks.

"We promised to stay together for better or for worse", said Vince. "We just didn't know it would get worse on our actual wedding day".

Ernie's words kept ringing in his ears: _What do you call a jazz musician without a girlfriend or boyfriend? Homeless._ Vince had bragged that Howard had never been homeless, and he still wasn't, really – he just didn't have a bed to sleep in for the night.

Janet came over to offer her congratulations and bid them farewell, but gave that up when she saw their faces.

"What's wrong with you two?", she asked. "I like to leave my clients looking like they've had the happiest day of their lives, not as if they've been to a funeral".

They quickly sketched out the bad news they'd been told.

"Surely you've lost jobs before and got new ones?", asked Janet, not very sympathetically.

"But Janet, we're a lot older now", said Howard. "We're thirty-three".

"I'm only thirty-two and nearly three-quarters", Vince interjected. He didn't pretend to be twenty-three any more, as that had got Howard into trouble.

"Now Howard, didn't your Messiah, the Lord Brian, have an incredible change take place in his life when he was thirty-three?", said Janet persuasively.

"Yes he was crucified by the Romans", said Howard sourly. "Is that what you're recommending for us, a painful death?".

"But he died singing, didn't he?", said Janet. "And what did he sing?".

" _Always Look on the Bright Side of Life_ ", said Howard glumly.

"Well there you go then", said Janet. "If he could look on the bright side as he died in agony, surely you can on your wedding day?".

"Fair enough", said Howard. "And where do we sleep tonight? Could you find a hotel room for us, Janet?".

"Now really, don't waste money on a hotel room when you have a perfectly good home of your own", said Janet impatiently. "There's no furniture, but you've still got bedding. You'll be on your honeymoon tomorrow, and in the morning I'm sending all your luggage ahead to ... to where you'll be staying. It's just for one night".

It was amazing how sensible Janet could be, considering she'd joined a weird cult and dedicated her life to Universal Peace and Love. It was the shaman in her, I expect. She showed more signs of that practicality when she presented Howard with her final bill. It read:

Organising last-minute wedding venue – 250 euros  
Performing wedding ceremony without notice – 250 euros  
Time travel – 100 euros  
Calling taxis, delivering guests, and general portage – 100 euros  
Saving the day and smoothing the path of true love – no charge

Howard paid the seven hundred euros, and gave her a three hundred euro tip, which wasn't his usual practice, but Janet had gone above and beyond. Without her, they never would have got married.

"Thanks", she said coolly, pocketing the money. "And remember Howard, you are a wizard. And Vince, remember you are blessed with sunshine magic. And never forget you both love each other beyond time and space, and in all possible worlds. I have no doubt whatsoever that the pair of you will be absolutely fine, no matter what".

Just before she disappeared into thin air, she called back to them: "And don't forget your wedding cake!".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sure that in our universe, the staff at the Hackney Town Hall are unfailingly courteous, professional, and helpful, but the building and front steps are just as elegant here. I don't think they actually provide any music at all – you have to do that yourself, like Vince and Howard did.
> 
> The wedding ceremony performed by Janet seems to have been cobbled together from religious and civil ceremonies used in various countries. It's just meant to show her lack of experience with human customs, not that the wedding service wasn't valid.
> 
> Howard selects the names Theodore and Beatrice for his future children in apparent tribute to Winnie-the-Pooh: Theodore shortens to Teddy, and Beatrice to Bee, which makes honey (and B is also the first letter in Bear – and Barratt, for that matter). T and B are the initials of The Boosh. If they had a third child, you can guess its initial, and I bet her name too! 
> 
> Vince's ancestry on one side is taken from both the TV show and from "Arctic Boosh", which mentioned Vince's Uncle Boris, a Russian postman. Vince's heritage on the other side is a collection of East End stereotypes and traditional roles for the underclass, and just as I made Howard descended from kings and British nobility, Vince is descended from Cockney "royalty" and French aristocracy. I did originally identify Vince's multi-ethnic background but it went on a bit. It included Cockney, Italian, Irish, Romani, Jewish, and Indian – major cultural groups of pre-war East London. 
> 
> In "Feel I Could Touch the Sky", Howard cheered up a sad Vince by saying that Vince's parents had probably never meant to abandon him, and it was most likely all a misunderstanding, which turns to be partially true. Howard destroying Vince's only letter from his parents is almost unforgivably controlling, but he doesn't want to ruin Vince's wedding day, or increase Vince's insecurity and neediness, which seems to originate from his feelings of abandonment. I expect Bryan Ferry will be able to put Vince in touch with his parents again in the future. 
> 
> Howard presumably means to imply that Vince's (invented) parents have emigrated to the Falkland Islands. Although not cut off from the outside world, some of its islets are only rarely in contact with it.
> 
> I matched Chris de Burgh up with Bryan Ferry simply so Chris de Burgh could be Vince's stepdad, as the character was played by Noel's father. I don't actually know if Bryan and Chris ended up together – Howard may have just been teasing – but almost everyone in the story does end up being matched into pairs in some way, so they probably did.
> 
> The story ends up going in a pretty baby-crazy direction, but that's because I'd written myself into a corner in "Satsumas Are Not the Only Fruit", where the parrots who eat the satsuma breed at a ridiculous rate. Even though humans are much more sophisticated than parrots, so that the satsuma can bring all sorts of love to a person, it did seem as if the satsuma would also boost fertility. Only afterwards did I realise this seemed awfully similar to the baby boom in "The Lord of the Rings" ...


	22. Just Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be Howard and Vince's wedding night, until I realised they got married in the morning, so it's actually their wedding afternoon. Because seriously, neither of these two are going to wait twelve hours to shag their new husband's brains out.

Howard carried Vince into the loft over the threshold, kissing him again and again, as he held him in his arms.

"How much longer are you going to keep doing that every time we come through the front door?", asked an amused Vince.

"Until I become too old and feeble to hold you", declared Howard.

"No way, you'll get well bored with it before then", said Vince.

"Probably the last time will be when we get back from our honeymoon", Howard said more practically, giving Vince another kiss as he put him back down.

"So you'll be too old and feeble after that?", giggled Vince. "Sounds like I'll wear you out good and proper on the honeymoon. Where are we going again, Howard?".

Vince had tried many times to trip Howard up into revealing their honeymoon destination, but he hadn't fallen for any of Vince's ploys.

"You'll find out tomorrow when Janet takes us there", Howard said with a little smile.

"And how will I know what to pack if I don't know where we're going?", argued Vince.

"You won't", said Howard. "Janet has already packed for you – and you can't sneak a peek either: she's put a magic lock on it that will only come off when it reaches the correct destination".

"Oh no, Janet did my packing?", Vince said in dismay. "Look how she dresses – she knows nothing about fashion!".

"She's very sensible", said Howard. "She's chosen clothing that will be perfect for the climate we'll be in, and she can read your mind, so she knows your tastes exactly. And er ... I helped her out a bit". Howard blushed, for some reason.

"So what clothes suit the climate we'll be in?", asked Vince curiously, secretly even more worried knowing both Howard and Janet did his packing. He imagined he was going to be mostly wearing brown corduroy nightgowns.

"Layers", said Howard unhelpfully. "And um ... outdoor clothing".

Vince gave up thinking about it. It was a waste of time, and he supposed he could always buy new clothes once he arrived, if Janet's packing had been really terrible. Unless they were going somewhere very wild and remote, in which case, he would "accidentally" break the camera so there would be no record of him spending two weeks wearing hideously unfashionable clothing and looking like he'd joined a Yeti jazz cult.

Vince began wandering around the loft, noticing that Janet had displayed all their wedding presents, neatly stored their possessions, and made up a bed for them on the floor with their sheets, blankets and pillows. She had done a good job, even using spare duvets and sleeping bags as a mattress underneath them.

"I'm sorry we're spending our first night as a married couple sleeping on the floor", said Howard, looking unhappy.

"You don't have to apologise for every little thing, you know", Vince said, taking Howard's hand.

"But it's all my fault, Howard replied. "If I hadn't insisted on going on holiday, Naboo would have never hired Adam and Steve, and we would not only still have jobs, but we'd be spending tonight in our old bedroom. I just keep ruining your life, Vince, with one bad decision after another".

"That holiday was genius", said Vince, putting his arms around Howard. "It was worth losing our jobs for, seriously. And how would spending our wedding night with Naboo and Bollo be better than spending it together in our own home?".

"But Vince - ", began Howard.

"We've slept on the floor together loads of times, since we were kids", said Vince. "Remember how we used to cuddle in blankets on the floor in the zookeeper's hut? Those were some of the best nights of my life until we became a couple. In fact, I think sleeping on the floor is the perfect way to start our marriage, to remind us that we've loved and wanted each other for years".

Howard allowed himself to be comforted, suddenly realising he shouldn't be acting guilty and miserable. He couldn't help thinking of the taxi driver who'd sarcastically predicted Howard would be a right laugh on the wedding night, and decided not to prove him correct.

He led Vince into the kitchen, filled with shiny new appliances, where Janet had once again shown her worth. Her wedding gifts to Howard and Vince were a matching toaster and kettle, complete with a china teapot and tea set. Janet had thoughtfully added a few basic groceries, such as tea, bread, and jam, so that Vince and Howard wouldn't come home from their honeymoon to an empty fridge and pantry, and could make themselves breakfast in the morning before they left.

Janet had left a short note explaining all this, adding that she'd made dinner reservations for them at the restaurant on the tow path. Howard knew the place – they could walk there in a few minutes, and it had a terrace strung with fairy lights overlooking the canal. It was the sort of nice place with tablecloths and candles and flowers Howard had once planned to take Vince so he could tell him that he was in love with him and was sorry for everything. Perhaps Janet had seen that in Vince's mind, or practical creature that she was, had simply booked the nearest restaurant.

Howard began making a pot of tea, in the firm belief that whatever may have gone wrong, tea would always make it seem better. Vince found their wedding present from Bryan Ferry, which was a stereo system and Bryan Ferry's entire back catalogue, including both Roxy Music and solo work. Vince started setting up the stereo – he was surprisingly deft with electrical goods, which is why he was once hired as junior manager at Rumbelows.

****************************************************

Howard brought the tea and a slice each of leftover wedding cake into the living room, where Vince had almost finished connecting the stereo. There was nowhere else to sit, so Howard put the food and drink near the makeshift bed on the floor, and sat down on it.

Howard was experiencing his usual shyness whenever his relationship with Vince changed status in any way. It suddenly seemed completely unbelievable that he was actually married to this fey and beautiful man in a neat dark suit, and Howard wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. Or maybe it truly had been a prank by Vince, who any minute now would be laughing and saying, _I had you really going for a while there, didn't I?_

"Do you want your cup of tea, Vince?", Howard asked, as if testing the waters.

"Be there in a minute, Howard", Vince replied. "I've nearly finished here".

His voice sounded serious, and he was looking through the complete works of Bryan Ferry for an album to put on. It didn't seem as if Vince was about to say it was all an elaborate hoax, Howard thought. Vince decided on one of Bryan Ferry's solo albums, and put the disc on, before joining Howard.

"Cheers, Howard", he said as he sat down. "Oh wedding cake, genius. Thanks Howard".

"So ... did you like the wedding, Vince?", Howard asked, after clearing his throat. He thought how bizarre it was that he was making awkward conversation with his own husband, and wondered if he had decades more of polite small talk with Vince to fumble his way through.

"Well, it's funny Howard, but I can't really remember most of it", said Vince thoughtfully. "Sort of bits here and there. I remember meeting your grandfather, and he's just as good-looking as I thought he would be. He's like you, but with long silver hair, like a wise old wizard. You're going to be a really gorgeous old man, you know. You'll be like a sexy Gandalf".

"Er, you didn't upset Grandpa, did you?", Howard asked, slightly worried.

"I don't think so, but he's not as forgetful as you made him sound", said Vince. "Because I asked him if someone bummed him, would he forget about it before they bummed him again, and he called me a cheeky devil, and said what the blazes did I mean by asking a question like that".

"Oh Lord", said Howard. "Hopefully he'll forget about you saying that. I remember the speeches, and Leroy telling everyone I bummed a fox and a llama, and about the moonlight dancing he caught me doing in the ice rink car park. Did he _have_ to bring up those rumours and incidents?".

"Yeah, everyone laughed at Leroy's speech more than anyone else's", grinned Vince. "It was genius. I nearly spit my flirtini out I was laughing so hard. But then he said how you really loved me, and how I was completely mental over you, and he was glad I'd found someone who could take care of me the way I need, and everyone thought it was really sweet".

"I made a speech too", Howard reminded him.

" _Why_ did you tell everyone the story about the pencil case mix up again?", moaned Vince.

"I'm a raconteur", said Howard. "That's what I do, tell legendary stories".

"But it was _your_ pencil case the whole time!", said Vince in exasperation. "Honestly, it doesn't even make sense".

"Yes, that's the twist ending nobody sees coming", said Howard complacently. "The sting in the tail. It's like something by O. Henry, but with the savage darkness of Roald Dahl".

"Ugh, let's just eat our cake", said Vince, picking his up and biting into it.

He had expected the cake to be dry and stale after so many hours, but it was sweet and tangy, still fresh and soft in his mouth. It was delicious, almost unbearably so, tasting like the very essence of every beautiful autumn day.

"It's good cake", Vince said with his mouth full. "Try some".

He held out a piece to Howard, who ate it from Vince's hand.

"It's really good", said Howard, licking his mouth.

He dipped his finger in the rosehip icing, and offered it to Vince to taste, who sucked it all off with a cheeky smile.

They continued feeding each other. Vince deliberately smeared cake around Howard's lips, giggling as he licked and kissed his mouth. Howard retaliated by rubbing icing onto Vince's cheekbones, who squealed and leaned back as Howard ate from him like a wild bear, his teeth slightly grazing Vince's face. By the end, they were just licking crumbs from each other, snorting with laughter; Howard licked the last crumb from the corner of Vince's mouth with his long tongue.

They sat back and looked at each other, happiness bubbling up inside them like champagne. Howard no longer felt awkward with Vince: it's hard to feel shy with someone when you've just eaten cake off their face, and licked their mouth for the final crumb. Try it some time and see.

"You know, I can't really remember the wedding much either", said Howard, looking into Vince's eyes. "It's the most important day of our lives, and the whole thing just felt like one long, weird dream".

"My whole life with you feels like one long, weird dream", replied Vince, gazing at Howard. "And I don't even know if it's our dream or someone else's".

"If we're dreaming, I hope we never wake up", said Howard. "And if it's someone else's dream, I hope they keep dreaming".

Just at that moment, the next song began playing, and when they heard its opening bars, Howard gave Vince a shifty little smile, and Vince grinned at him, because it was _Slave to Love_.

Howard was going to say sardonically, _They're playing our song_ , but he didn't get the chance before Vince had thrown himself at Howard, pressing his body against his, arms close around him, hands tangled in Howard's hair. A surprised Howard found himself suddenly lying down, with Vince on top of him, fitting his body into Howard's, kissing him with the hunger of a starving man.

Vince's kisses were usually gentle, often sweet, nearly always soft. He liked to draw out kissing, coaxing Howard to give him his lips, teasing him with the tip of his tongue, pulling away flirtatiously to encourage Howard to pursue him. Such kisses inflamed Howard, and slowly drove him mad with desire, while making him feel strong and in control.

But now Vince's kisses knocked all the breath from his lungs, all the air sucked out of him. He should have felt panicky, or helpless, but instead he was dizzy with wanting more. He could feel Vince's bones against him; normally so light and delicate, now almost hurting him with their sharp angles. He wanted more pain, to make it real, wanted Vince even closer; he let out a muffled groan and pulled Vince's thin hips harder into his.

Vince suddenly sat up, his swollen red lips and glazed eyes making Howard just about burst, and started throwing his clothes off as if they were burning his skin. Howard began undoing his own shirt, panting with effort, as if it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

"Leave your kilt on", Vince whispered. "It's really sexy".

Howard wanted to tell Vince he was a kinky little sod, but instead he let out a little moan, because Vince made him feel so soft and vulnerable. This was Ruthless Bastard Vince, the wicked seducer who takes what he wants and won't stop until he's satisfied. And Howard practically swooned at the thought of being taken.

"Do we have any Boots around?", said Vince, suddenly frantic at the thought that all the Boots might be packed away.

Howard searched for Boots, as if it might be right there, fruitlessly patting the floor near them, and finally finding it neatly tucked away under a pillow. Bless the astute bed-making Janet, but I'm afraid neither Vince nor Howard gave her a thought. Their minds were otherwhere, on licking and sucking, and in the slickness of Boots, going on heavy in sweet fingerfuls.

And when Vince lifted himself under Howard's kilt, in the proud clan colours of red and green, he learnt something about doing it on the floor. Because you always find that perfect spot, and then the mattress sinks in just a little and you lose it again, struggling to keep yourself on the mark. But on a hard surface, you can find that sweet spot and just keep hitting it again and again, until Vince was just about sending Howard mental. Doing it on the floor was fucking genius. If he'd known about this, he would have bummed Howard senseless while they were still at the zoo.

Perhaps in the past Vince had been ... not disappointed by Howard's responses, because he knew he made Howard very, very happy, even though he wasn't that vocal, but sometimes he would have liked a bit more feedback. But now Howard was saying much more than the same two words again and again, and then Vince's name at the end.

Vince was big and beautiful; Vince was a skilful and considerate lover who understood Howard's needs; Vince was getting a lengthy five star review all in enthusiastic capitals. The fact that Howard suddenly couldn't shut up about Vince and his massive talent in the bedroom was making Vince feel as strong and fierce and agile as a tiger, a leopard, a wolf. He was an unstoppable force of nature.

The words Vince had always wanted to hear came tumbling out of Howard's mouth: that Howard loved him with every endearment possible, and please keep going, exactly there, and don't stop Vince, fuck you're incredible darling. Vince wasn't going to stop; he felt he could do this for hours if Howard kept saying all these things to him, panting them out, groaning them, the words cracking in his mouth.

Like I said, it takes time for things to be perfect. Not that Vince and Howard were perfect, far from it. Vince kept sticking his elbows into Howard, and there was saliva flecking Howard's face all around his mouth, and they were both breathless and sweaty. But it _felt_ perfect.

Howard thought Vince had been right from the start, as always. It was so much better facing each other, so that he could look at Vince, so beautiful that it hurt him a little, but a good hurt. And they could kiss each other, Vince's tongue sliding against his, his lips moist and open, and he could kiss Vince on his sweet little nipples. And Vince's hand could be on him, bring him pleasure from another direction; no wonder this had soon become one of his favourite positions. And he could gaze into Vince's eyes; he was drowning in the blue of those eyes, he was gone, he was ...

Afterwards Vince fell into Howard's arms, exhausted, while Howard kissed and held him, murmuring his admiration for Vince's achievement in his ear. Howard's hair was so damp that it had lost most of its curl, and strands of it stuck to his face. They both ached all over, pleasurably.

"You came at me like a beam, like a ray of light", mumbled Howard.

"Yeah, got some new moves. First post", said Vince, with a giggle.

"Mm, you'll have to let me try some new moves on you", Howard suggested.

"Still plenty of time", yawned Vince. "Haven't even had dinner yet. Feel like a little sleepie now".

He snuggled himself into the crook of Howard's arm, and settled his head on his shoulder, falling asleep at once. Howard gently kissed his eyelashes and gave a feather-light kiss to his cheek, before he fell asleep too. They lay so closely intertwined under the duvet that at first glance you might have thought only one person lay on the floor, not two.

And now you may believe that the love story of Howard and Vince is over, their courtship the witty prologue to the dull play of their marriage. That's the trouble with romantic comedies – they always end with the wedding, as if that was the great object to be attained. Elizabeth and Mr Darcy go off to Pemberley with about a million wedding presents to the value of more than your house and a smugly upper-class happy ever after, and that's the last we ever hear of them.

No wonder authors prefer to write romantic tragedies where bungling teenagers accidentally off themselves on poison, or the clever wisecracking girl dies of leukemia in a ravel of clear tubes, or the fragile neurotic adulteress throws herself under a train, or the handsome Byronic murderer is blinded when his estate burns to the ground, and spends the rest of his life in an indifferent French hotel, his soothingly dull little cipher of a second wife reading him the county cricket scores. Tragedy and bittersweet seem so much more romantic than comedy and a happy ending.

But both life and love can persist after marriage, and not only survive the wedding vows, but thrive thereafter, growing like the green elm tree and putting forth new branches and fresh leaves with each season. Howard and Vince had many years to do likewise: to learn and grow together, and argue and bicker and commit plenty of stupid mistakes, and to have adventures, and discover new things, and find magic everywhere, and make more dreams come true.

As they sleep there so peacefully, it's strange to think of all that's ahead of them, and that all their life that went before was just the foreword to the book of their love. Tomorrow they will wake to find themselves on the first clean white page of Chapter One.

I mean, they don't even know about the twins yet, and should savour every bit of sleep they can find.


	23. Epilogue: For Peace and Trust Can Win the Day Despite All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's lots of places I could have ended the story, and nearly all the chapters ended happily for Howard and Vince. But this is where it really ends, because none of those other happy endings were quite happy enough ... this is the happy ending I always wanted for them.

Howard woke slowly, barely opening his eyes. He didn't know where he was, and the light looked different. It was like the light in memories and dreams – it made everything look both unreal and too real. He heard Vince's voice.

"Morning, gorgeous", said Vince.

He felt Vince's warm breath, and his lips against his as Vince kissed him.

"Do you want breakfast?", Vince asked.

But Howard pulled Vince into his arms. If this was a memory, he wanted to keep on remembering. If this was a dream, he wanted to keep dreaming ...

*****************************************************

Afterwards Howard held Vince, bathed in warm contentment. It wasn't really that chilly, but Howard pulled the covers over them more firmly anyway. Now that he was awake properly, he knew where they were, and that the strange light had only been because the heavy yellow curtains were closed. He leaned over, and pulled the nearest curtain open, so that he and Vince could lie in bed and see the ice blue harbour and the distant mountains, topped with clouds in the grey sky.

"Now we've been here for a while, do you like where I picked for our honeymoon?", asked Howard.

Vince turned, and placed his lips on Howard's bare shoulder.

"'Course Howard, it's genius", said Vince. "It's the best honeymoon I've ever been on".

"And you really didn't guess where we were going?".

"No way, not a clue", Vince assured him. "I thought you were going to take me camping in the Lake District, or climbing Ben Nevis, or hiking on the Yorkshire moors".

"We've gone hiking here, too", Howard pointed out. "And seen lakes, and done a bit of climbing".

"Yeah, and it's been brilliant", Vince agreed. "But in between, you take me clothes shopping and out to nightclubs. I love being married to a millionaire!".

"I'm not one any more", Howard informed him, "and by the time we get home, I'll probably be broke".

"Don't worry, Howard", Vince said. "It's more romantic having no money. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's better to start your marriage being unemployed and penniless – that way, things can only get better. And if they don't, then that's alright too. It's all good". He snuggled into Howard happily.

Howard smiled at Vince's enthusiasm. Even on the greyest days, Vince was always filled with sunshine. There hadn't been one moment of their honeymoon where Vince had been anything less than thrilled with whatever Howard had planned. And if he didn't plan anything, then Vince liked that even more – they could just stay in bed, or go for a stroll, or poke around art galleries. His favourite thing to do with Howard had always been "whatever".

"So what made you decide on Reykjavik for the honeymoon, anyway?", Vince asked, nibbling on Howard's ear lobe.

"I kissed you because of tourists from Iceland, and you liked it", said Howard with a blush. "And I wanted somewhere near the Arctic, because that's where you first told me that you loved me".

"You really are just a big soppy git", said Vince, in tones of the greatest satisfaction.

"I feel as though I should say this", said Howard seriously. "I love you, Vince".

Vince giggled.

"Well, I love you", he replied.

Vince kept grinning, even while they kissed. He couldn't help it – Howard just made him happy, and that earnest tone he used always made him want to laugh and laugh.

Howard could feel the hum of Vince's laughter against his lips, the vibrations of it going right through his body. He rolled on top of Vince, and kissed him harder and harder ...

***************************************************

"Finally, breakfast!", announced Vince, tucking into an enormous stack of waffles smothered in rhubarb jam and whipped cream. "I thought we were never going to get up and order something to eat".

"You don't usually want much in the morning", noted Howard, as he ate a big bowl of porridge and honey with raisins, topped with something like natural yoghurt.

"I do here: I'm hungry all the time", Vince replied. "It must be the colder weather, or all the exercise we're doing. I'm going to be so fat that I won't fit into my clothes when we get home".

"Great excuse to buy new ones", smiled Howard. He was glad to see that Vince was looking healthier since they arrived; his cheeks were almost rosy.

Howard and Vince read the English newspapers that had been brought up with their breakfast. Vince was reading _Hey, There Hackney!_ , because Icelanders are a cultured, sophisticated people who can point out Dalston on a map, and are in touch with all forms of international media.

"Listen to this", Vince suddenly said. " _Lance Dior and Harold Boom, otherwise known as hip cult surreal underground musical duo The Flighty Zeus, have announced that their huge romantic wedding will take place on October 1, and given this magazine exclusive access! The Flighty Zeus, who were discovered on cool website MySpace, are to feature in an exciting new upcoming music documentary by internationally acclaimed director Rick Felcher, with the working title Flying Around the Zeus, Baby! Lance and Harold will be embarking on a honeymoon concert tour of Ireland very soon_!".

"Don't worry – all that anyone will see of Lance and Harold in the film will be their nostrils and the top of their heads", said Howard comfortingly. "And next week the magazine will probably do an exposé of Harold and the shocking secret life he's been leading. It will turn out he's really the actor Simon McFarnaby or something".

"I don't mind", said Vince. "I just hope that Lance and Harold really do love each other, and that they're happy together".

"You really mean that, don't you?", said Howard in surprise.

"Well Howard, I'm so happy being married to you, I just want everyone else to be this happy", said Vince, kissing the back of Howard's hand.

"You're very sweet and forgiving", said Howard, who thought Lance was a trouble-making wretch who didn't deserve forgiveness. Only the realisation that without Lance, he wouldn't be married to Vince right now and on his honeymoon, stopped Howard from sharing that belief.

"Hey, let's buy Lance and Harold a wedding present before we leave", suggested Vince. "What would be a good present that you can only buy in Iceland?".

"Um ... Icelandic jumpers or lava bracelets?".

"No clothing or jewellery", said Vince, who didn't feel quite that forgiving.

"A copy of the Icelandic sagas?", Howard said, who had been reading a translation of the _Eddas_. "I mean, everyone can enjoy the kennings of skaldic poetry".

"I know – we'll get them a huge box of Icelandic chocolate and sweets", said Vince. "We can do that and post it just before we go home".

"Next you'll say you want to have them over for dinner when they get back from their honeymoon", said Howard teasingly.

"That's going too far", said Vince seriously. "But we could meet them for a cup of tea in the caff opposite The Velvet Onion one Saturday morning".

"Too close to our rehearsal space", said Howard warily. "The coffee shop on the High Street would be better".

"Whatever. So what are we doing today, Howard?", asked Vince.

"I thought we might go hiking on a glacier", said Howard, blushing for some reason. "We can get there in the car I hired".

"Ooh, aren't glaciers always covered in ice and snow?", said Vince excitedly. "I'm not sure I've got anything to wear that's warm enough".

"Oh ... um ... I've got something you can wear", said Howard, blushing even more furiously for some reason. "It's on top of my suitcase – go try it on".

While Vince was getting changed, Howard started reading through his mail, which had been brought in with their breakfast. He had a letter from Naboo, written in quill on old parchment that smelt smoky, and it made for very interesting reading. Howard couldn't help smirking a bit, even as he shook his head over the state of things at the Nabootique.

It seemed that Adam and Steve hadn't been grateful for the opportunities Naboo had given them, and they had both got jobs at Dixons which paid more, moving into a share house together in Shoreditch for lower rent. To Naboo's chagrin, Adam and Steve hadn't enjoyed living with a gorilla, and were both strongly opposed to drugs of all kinds. Furthermore, they objected to being called ballbags, claiming it amounted to a hostile work environment.

Just as Howard finished the letter, Vince came out in the outfit Howard had selected.

"Hey my old glam rock ski suit – cool!", said Vince. "I can't believe it still fits me".

He twisted and turned in it, to show Howard how well it fitted him, while Howard greedily drank in the sight of Vince in the skin-tight red ski suit with Bowie-inspired white lightning bolts on it.

"It looks fantastic", said Howard, his face as red as the ski suit.

"I didn't even know I still had this. Where's it been all this time?", asked Vince.

Howard looked shifty. He wasn't ready to confess yet how many nights he had slept with the ski suit, nor everything that he had done with it during those long lonely years without Vince in his arms. After all, he had got it dry cleaned and everything ...

"Er, in storage", he said awkwardly.

"This is genius, Howard", said Vince. "Go get your warm coat and your woolly hat – we're going to be spending all day together in the ice and snow. It will be just like the frozen tundra". He danced around the hotel room in his pink and white faux fur boots, singing _The Jean Genie_.

As he got his cold weather gear, Howard called back:

"Oh yeah Vince, I nearly forgot. Naboo wrote, and he'd like us to work at the Nabootique again. Do you want to?".

"Yeah maybe", said Vince. " _He's so simple-minded, he can't drive his module_ ... I mean, you said we could do anything we liked with our futures ... _He bites on the neon and sleeps in a capsule_ ... We'd need to think about it ... _Loves to be loved, loves to be_ _loved_ ".

"I think if we did, I'd have to negotiate a pay rise for us, and make sure we have four weeks off every year", said Howard, coming back looking all financial and wizardy. "I could get a proper contract drawn up, not the nonsense thing Naboo had where we just swore on that blue stone".

"I love how you're so clever, Howard", said Vince admiringly, putting his arms around Howard and kissing him. "I don't know what I'd do without you".

Howard gave a little gasp at actually touching Vince in the glam rock ski suit. He could feel every little bit of Vince pressed against him through the suit, and some big bits as well. He ran his hands down Vince's back and cupped his delectable arse, soon to be featured in _Dazed & Confused_.

Howard wasn't sure how long he was going to last before he ripped Vince's ski suit off, but luckily he had some Boots in the glove box, just in case. He thought it possible they wouldn't actually reach the glacier before it happened: it was quite a long drive. In fact, it was such a long drive that Howard decided he should get the concierge to book them into a guest house near the glacier so they could stay overnight.

"You're looking shifty, Howard", smiled Vince. "That means you're planning something nice".

He took both Howard's hands and pulled him into a dance with him. The two of them funk danced around their hotel room singing _The Jean Genie_ , happier than someone wearing two ponchos.

_The Jean Genie lives on his back_   
_The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks_   
_He's outrageous, he screams and he bawls, Jean Genie_   
_Jean Genie, let yourself go, whoa – go go go!_

********************************************************

By afternoon, Howard and Vince were hiking across the frozen glacier, ice and snow as far as the eye could see. Alone under the feathered blue-grey sky, it was possible to believe they were the only people in the world. Howard trudged carefully in hiking boots, testing the ice as he went, while Vince danced and skipped along in his faux fur boots: a glam rock snow fairy. Like a faithful dog, he sometimes ran ahead in excitement, then returned to walk sedately at Howard's heels. There was no sign that the sedateness was any less of a pleasure for him than the excitement.

Howard thought that if Janet ever had taken them back in time to begin their relationship afresh, he would have asked her to take them back to the Arctic. He knew that if he had the chance again, he would not force Vince out to spend the night by himself in the snow because he looked too distractingly sexy in his glam rock ski suit. So sexy that Howard had feared he wouldn't be able to control himself, and would bum Vince to death if they were left alone together.

Instead he would hold Vince safe and warm in his arms all night, and rather than waiting until they were at the point of almost certain death before he told Vince how he felt, he would tell him that he loved him – and not just once, but again and again, whispering it in his ear as if it was a delightful secret, or moaning it while their bodies were pressed tightly together for warmth in the tent. And if Vince laughed when he said it back, Howard would laugh for happiness too.

But this way was better, he told himself. Janet had been wise to tell them that all their errors and follies, their missteps and stumbles, had still brought them together, no matter how long it had taken. Because we all travel in Time, even if it's only forwards, and moving at a rate of 24 hours per day. And now they appreciated each other more, and understood each other better, and Howard could give Vince everything he wanted to: everything that Vince deserved.

Vince didn't think anything like that. As soon as Janet had explained to him that going back in time would mean losing all his memories of his relationship with Howard, he had known it was one of his stupider ideas, and his brain secretary must have been having an off day. Because Howard might have fallen in love with many Vinces and yearned for the ones he had missed out on, but Vince only loved one Howard: the one he had married. And there was no way Vince would ever, ever give him up – not even for another Howard.

Instead Vince just thought what a great honeymoon they were having. Iceland was amazing, even though nobody seemed to think that his name meant "hook" in their native language. He thought how rugged and handsome Howard looked in his Arctic clothing, and how serious his expression was as they traversed the ice – he could never resist Howard when he was in action man explorer mode. Not that he was very good at resisting him at any time.

Vince thought about the severe beauty of the landscape, and even though he tended to live in the moment, his mind also flicked ahead to the night they would spend snug in the guest house together. He didn't need a polar bear to keep him company, because he had Howard to give him bear hugs, and touch him with his big northern paws. And yes, bears have teeth and claws and can play rough, but they're also protective, and cuddlesome, and have long dexterous tongues, perfect for licking out honeypots and other receptacles.

Vince had sometimes heard that when you finally get everything you ever wanted, it's never as good as you imagined. He now knew that wasn't true – sometimes it's better than you ever thought it would be; sometimes you get things you never dared let yourself dream. Sometimes you find yourself where your wishes and your future meet, and then your heart glows until the northern lights pale into insignificance.

Howard and Vince reached the top of the little peak they had been climbing, and stood for a breather with arms around each other. They could see more peaks and fells ahead of them, and polar blue snow caves. In the other direction was an icy lagoon, on which Howard thought he would take Vince boating the next day. He took the camera out of his coat pocket.

At that moment it began snowing out of the steel-coloured sky, a few soft white flakes that brushed against their faces, as if Howard and Vince were captured within a snow globe. It was cold outside, and you see, it meant everything to them – everything, everywhere, all at once, all over. It felt as if every point in time and space were rushing towards each other, and for this one instant, Vince and Howard were frozen in Time, existing in an eternal Now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is obviously from Led Zep's "Immigrant Song", about Iceland. It's a bit lame, and kind of a spoiler, but actually better than my earlier attempts.
> 
> Howard is full of it saying he isn't a millionaire any more – he's simply become asset-rich rather than cash-rich. As far as I can work out, even with the most luxurious honeymoon possible, he still has around half a million euros left, so is definitely not broke. I don't actually think the canny Janet would have booked the most luxurious possible though, and they didn't pay for air fares. Coupled with Vince's money, together they still have over a million euros in cash as well as owning a significant piece of London property and a ruined castle, so they are not in any immediate financial danger. Howard seems to not only control the money, but gives Vince the idea they don't really have any. He might know what he is doing, so I won't judge. 
> 
> The glacier that Howard and Vince hike on is more or less imaginary, although in real life there are several glaciers that you can drive to from Reykjavik in an ordinary car within a few hours, with guesthouses in the near vicinity (it's probably most similar to Skaftafell National Park, a popular film location). It is not a realistic depiction of glacier hiking in our universe, which requires guides and special equipment and all sorts. 
> 
> As you can tell, "Tundra" eats me up inside, and it was probably the first episode where I wanted to metaphorically smack Howard over the head for being so bloody idiotic. And the tragic Gary Numan song at the end, "Are Friends Electric?", sung by the sad bear, just kills me. I mean, listen to the song as a comment on the episode, and try not to cry, especially remembering that Vince must be the one who taught it to the bear. So this chapter is a slight rewrite of that, with even the song becoming part of a happy moment instead. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading, and commenting, and sending kudos! You can't imagine how encouraging this has been, especially for someone who never thought they'd write a long chapter story.


	24. Appendix: Vince and Howard's Finite Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For completionists only! "Married on the Morrow" was band fic, and music was a big part of the story, so here's a list of the songs mentioned in it. For artists, I've chosen songs that I think either Vince or Howard would like, or which suited the story. Links to YT vids if you'd like to hear them.

**Last Christmas – Wham! (1984)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8gmARGvPlI  
The George Michael-penned work which convinced Howard he shouldn't talk about his feelings to Vince at Yuletide. What a lame excuse!

**Higher Love – Steve Winwood** **(1986)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9olaIio3l8  
Chose this track because it reminded me of Howard and Vince; the lyrics are all about time and space and a soulmate connection.

**Round Midnight – Thelonious Monk (1944)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZskBDZ40os  
One of the greatest jazz standards of all time, and a favourite of Julian's.

**Stallion – Kris Kristofferson (1975)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJuThzO6tbU  
Howard reminded Vince of Kristofferson when he had long hair, so what other song could sum up Howard?

**Zomby Woof – Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention (1973)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ksnwEsPKO5s  
A song from one of Julian's favourite albums, and probably Noel's as well. It's got a jazz-funk fusion sound, and the character reminds me a lot of the Spirit of Jazz.

**A Love Supreme – John Coltrane (1964)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll3CMgiUPuU  
One of Julian's favourites. The supreme love is all about God, not romance, but the story actually had a lot to say about God, one way or another.

**Abba Zabba – Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band (1967)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTo7OgXkbe8  
From one of Julian's favourite albums, and surely Noel's as well. The free-form surreal lyrics sound like an inspiration for the crimps, and it's about a candy bar, which Vince would approve of.

**Deeply Dippy – Right Said Fred (1992)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Lc71KXbASM  
Leroy thought Howard was "deeply dippy" over Vince, a nod to this iconic British pop trio with a gay image and fanbase.

**If You Love Somebody Set Them Free – Sting (1985)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSGl3d4KOMk  
What Lance claimed he did with Harold (wink).

**Stand and Deliver – Adam Ant (1981)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4B2a6l6wM2k  
Adam Ant's signature highwayman image in the video was a big influence on Noel's and Vince's androgynous dandy look. Also, Adam Ant tried to save the gorilla with the song!

**Can the Can – Suzi Quatro (1973)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYoogY-UGio  
The song that Howard ended up proposing to, since Vince couldn't get a string quartet. This glam-rock song is all about getting your man and making him commit. Suzi Quatro is a favourite of Noel.

**The Chain – Fleetwood Mac (1976)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBYHwH1Vb-c  
Fleetwood Mac was a touchstone for The Boosh in the story, and this song from _Rumours_ is one of Julian's favourites. I could imagine this song playing during their "breakup" in Chapter 7. 

**Future Sailors – The Mighty Boosh (2007)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtRXK5wKZCk  
From "The Power of the Crimp". Referenced in the factually incorrect article about Vince and Howard in _Hey There, Hackney!_

**The Sea of Love – The Honeydrippers (1984)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BoUzzFXuVU  
Referenced in the factually incorrect article about Vince and Howard in _Hey There, Hackney!_ I chose the version with Robert Plant as the vocalist, because of Noel.

**Calm a Llama Down – The Mighty Boosh (2004)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5QROz_XxDI  
From "Jungle". According to Howard, there's only way to calm a llama down, and that's to give it a good rutting, which is not the same as bumming, and isn't sexual. Yeah, right!

**Two Hearts Beat as One – U2 (1983)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIuAFBRyjj4  
It's probably about Northern Ireland, but you can take this as a straight love song. The line about it being their last chance resonated with me; the story's written as if they _have_ to get it right this time.

**Ghost Rider – Suicide (1977)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dn7SBQ6X5HU  
The proto-punk duo that The Cracked Nipples aspired to follow. Suicide are Noel's favourite punk band, and this track from their seminal debut album has been covered by The Horrors.

**I'll Be Your Mirror – The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9_aVPwDNzc  
A nod to the Velvet Onion; The Velvet Underground are another of Noel's favourites. I imagine Vince singing this to Howard – really, it's just perfect for them.

**Let's Get Lost – Chet Baker (1955)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVmbh93-a24  
This jazz trumpeter, this jazz standard, and the 1988 music documentary of the same name were supposedly one of Dick Filcher's inspirations for the film he was making about The Boosh.

**The Ballad of John and Yoko – The Beatles (1969)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-1OgNqBkVE  
Dick Filcher saw John and Yoko as another film inspiration, and Howard turned to this wedding shenanigans story for information on how to emulate them.

**Exit Music (For a Film) – Radiohead (1997)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkKeuATOdSE  
The final track on Baz Luhrmann's _Romeo + Juliet_ , it's the song I imagined Tony Harrison wanted to play: depressing and a real room clearer, it literally tells people to go choke themselves.

**Tell Me – Groove Theory (1995)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THtqUDitQ4I  
The grumpy Saboo seemed to take his deejaying duties surprisingly seriously, so I thought he might choose this upbeat R&B dance hit in an attempt to get people on the floor.

**I Love the Chosen One – The Mighty Boosh (2005)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRsekFYkCDM  
From "Fountain of Youth". This song about Vince by the nomadic desert tribe got Howard and Vince sexually excited, thinking about their long nights together on Xooberon.

**Pancake Crimp – The Mighty Boosh (2007)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vww_ougbQRc  
From "Journey to the Centre of the Punk". Howard and Vince sang this as they made pancakes, and Howard recalled the time he had to sing it in order to save Vince's life.

**I Love Rock 'n' Roll – Joan Jett and The Blackhearts (1982)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBRwZbAKMpU  
Joan Jett was another major influence on Vince's rock star style, and he copied both her trademark red leather jumpsuit and her hairdo.

**In a Silent Way – Miles Davis (1969)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQKt7DTKyJU&t=541s  
Howard's dad Percy was a Miles Davis fan, just like Julian's dad. This is one of Julian's favourite Davis pieces.

**Day for Night - Bryan Ferry (1987)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGqJCtykLDM  
Bryan Ferry quotes from his own song in saying that Vince is now old enough to understand the great "mystery of love".

**Dammit Janet – Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbpJb7hjb7M  
The wedding-y inspiration for Janet's name and business card, taken from a rather Booshy musical.

**One Love – Bob Marley (1977)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1PDdCmJ84LI  
Howard mocks Janet by calling her Bob Marley, because she says that "all love is one".

**Always Look on the Bright Side of Life – Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ep9Vzb6R_58  
The traditional wedding hymn in the Church of Brian Christ, written by St Eric the Idle. Howard and Vince nearly walked down the aisle to this song, sung by Adam Ant.

**Gimme Shelter – The Rolling Stones (1969)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7vLY-kZsAI  
Classic Stones song which gave its title to a 1970 musical documentary, supposedly one of Dick Filcher's cinematic inspirations for the film he was making about The Mighty Boosh.

**Bouncy Bouncy Crimp – The Mighty Boosh (2007)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNgL0E2BFEM  
From "Party". Howard and Vince often referred to their first kiss, and how it ended in them going bouncy bouncy and having oh, such a good time.

**I Get a Kick Out of You – Frank Sinatra (1953)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IXFmv5uaPw  
The Cole Porter tune which Howard sang on his birthday, while doing the can-can (it must have been a fairly slow can-can). Of course it's dedicated to Vince.

**Wild Thing – The Troggs (1966)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gSWInYFVksg  
Dick Filcher was hopeful that this was how Howard felt about Vince from first sight.

**Little Things – Bush (1994)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02K82uw4lio  
The Queen thought that The Mighty Boosh might be a supergroup with one member from this British grunge band. She possibly thought Vince was the pretty Gavin Rossdale.

**The Impression That I Get – The Mighty Mighty Bosstones (1996)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIGMUAMevH0  
The Queen imagined The Mighty Boosh was a supergroup with one member from this American ska band. She might have thought Howard was Dicky Barrett, whose surname is a bit like Julian's.

**Typical Girls – The Slits (1979)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCk8tEOcwqU  
Viv Blanc explained her name was short for Vivienne, like Viv Albertine of punk girl group The Slits. I chose this ironic song for Viv and Holly because they're not really typical girls (is anyone?).

**Suspicious Minds – Elvis Presley (1969)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MT3P7p-WNSY  
Viv thought Vince and Holly's minds were getting suspicious about her and Howard, just like this song.

**Goodbye Pork-Pie Hat – Charles Mingus (1959)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uluyI4Rayxs  
According to Howard, he and other jazz fans wear pork pie hats in honour of this song. The song isn't really about hats, but is a tribute to jazz saxophonist Lester Young.

**Lover Man (Oh Where Can You Be) – Billie Holiday (1945)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBanjMmV6zQ  
The woman at The Blue Trolleybus sang this gloomy jazz song, making Vince wonder if he really was allergic to jazz after all. I imagine this is how Howard felt for a long time.

**Swamp Cabbage – Weather Report (1984)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MF7_h-AhS1U  
I named Howard's old jazz band after this instrumental track by his favourite jazz-funk band (and Julian's favourite). It sounded like it could be the name of a band, and is quite Booshy.

**Sea Funk – The Mighty Boosh (2005)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OQ1IcmBpHA  
From "The Legend of Old Gregg". Howard mentions that this is one of The Mighty Boosh's set pieces, and he rates it as pretty much 100% funk.

**Don't You Want Me – The Human League (1981)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPudE8nDog0  
This electropop band is said to be one of Vince's favourites, and he played this song to Howard on the show as a possible hint of his feelings. Howard smashed the cassette, the electrophobic berk.

**Autobahn – Kraftwerk (1974)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yl0hL2cz_6s  
Vince suggested that Howard could have dropped subtle hints to his old friends that he was in an electro band, such as admitting he'd enjoyed listening to German electro band Kraftwerk. I chose this song because Howard said he felt at home on the road.

**You Can Leave Your Hat On – Joe Cocker (1986)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hfgwrdYUQ2A  
Howard was quite keen for Vince to leave his cowboy hat on during sexy times, an allusion to this song.

**Pinball Wizard – The Who (1969)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AKbUm8GrbM  
I named Howard's old band members after characters from _Tommy_ and _Quadrophenia_ : this song reminded me of Howard, a literal wizard, and something of a pinball protagonist.

**Sammy the Crab Song – The Black Tubes (2007)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZheJOP2mZs  
From "The Chokes". Sadly, the only song we ever get to see The Black Tubes perform. I always thought The Black Tubes were named in honour of The Tubes, one of Noel's favourite punk bands. 

**The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat – Carmen Miranda (1941)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLsTUN1wVrc  
Howard thought Vince might dress as Carmen Miranda for their date at The Satin Banana – maybe because of the fruit motif.

**Help Yourself – Tom Jones (1968)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXOakafUk6c  
It's a nod to this song when Howard imagines offering Vince his lips, or anything else he feels like helping himself to.

**Evil Ways – Santana (1969)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tKIPuLfeKg  
Santana turned up in the name of The Satin Banana, and were an inspiration for rock duo Rudi & Spider. I chose this song because Howard has to confront the darker side of Vince.

**Bowie's in Space – Flight of the Conchords (2007)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8f_XCH3zmM  
Rick Felcher thought The Flighty Zeus were the next Flight of the Conchords. Sometimes compared to The Boosh, there's no rivalry with them – Noel almost played Bowie on their TV show.

**Married on the Morrow – The Mighty Boosh (2001)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxYQBwtu4z4  
From "Jungle" on the radio show. The obvious inspiration for the story. Howard thought that because they only wrote one love song, and it had a sad ending, they might not be suited to romance ... aw, bless.

**I Do I Do I Do I Do I Do – ABBA (1975)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tW3HN_pvbE4  
One of two songs supplied by the town hall for weddings. Howard refused to use it, because two men getting married to ABBA is such a hideous cliche. It's not really about wedding vows.

**I Knew The Bride (When She Used to Rock and Roll) – Nick Lowe (1985)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kn1CXbf2xF8  
The other song supplied by the town hall. Howard couldn't believe anyone would choose this song for their wedding, but people often do – not usually to go down the aisle, though.

**Avalon – Roxy Music (1982)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpA_5a0miWk  
Bryan Ferry sings this hit while Naboo walks Vince down the aisle. It's not exactly suitable, but does sound very romantic and dreamy, in line with Howard and Vince finding their wedding to be like a dream.

**Let's Stick Together – Bryan Ferry (1976)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9EbR0ckb40  
One of the hits Bryan Ferry sings during cocktails. Vince isn't impressed, because it's about a couple on the verge of divorce.

**Body and Soul – Teddy Wilson (1941)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTWLh5xLoHo  
Howard imagines calling their son Theodore or Teddy, with this jazz pianist in mind. I picked a romantic number for them.

**The Lady in Red – Chris De Burgh (1986)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2h6xe4H4qBA  
This romantic ballad is a guilty pleasure of Julian's, so I gave it to Howard and Vince for their wedding waltz. Besides, they already knew Chris De Burgh, so obviously he'd be at the wedding.

**Slave to Love – Bryan Ferry (1985)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kp3N3wQPO0  
Vince's choice to play on their wedding ... er, afternoon. It got them in the mood because it reminded them of Howard being Vince's slave on Xooberon, which always got them going, saucy minxes.

**Immigrant Song – Led Zeppelin (1970)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlNhD0oS5pk  
Noel is a huge Led Zep fan, and this song about the band's trip to Reykjavik in Iceland was chosen for Howard and Vince's honeymoon in the same city.

**The Jean Genie – David Bowie (1973)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMYg_Ra4cr8  
The song Vince and Howard sing together; it's from the _Aladdin Sane_ album, the inspiration for Vince's glam-rock ski suit design. The song reminded me of Vince, and the chorus is Vince's constant advice to Howard – to relax and let himself go.

**Never Gonna Give You Up – Rick Astley (1987)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ  
Vince will never give Howard up, a nod to this pop song. I see this as how Vince feels about Howard, and everything he wants to say to him.

**Are 'Friends' Electric? - Gary Numan (1979)** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZF4Z6smOrZw  
This song which featured in "Tundra" is referenced in the ending of the story, turning a sad song into a happy moment for these two Arctic explorers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'd turned into Tolkien. I'll spare you the calendars, maps, reading lists etc ...


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